


A Lost Cause

by dornfelder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Case Fic, EWE, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When unknown criminals sell illegal potions to the Wizarding community, Harry has to work with Draco Malfoy to solve the case. They're abducted and incarcerated, and to makes things even worse, Harry proves one more time he's a lost cause when it comes to potions. But there's a slight chance that Felix Felicis will help him to put things right in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lost Cause

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for Harry Potter's Get Lucky fest 2010, for la_mariane's prompt # 100, betas: tigersilver and marionquixote

**A Lost Cause**

**  
I**  
  
“We've got a serious problem,” Gawain Robards announced as soon as he'd entered the room. “Someone is selling illegal potions to the Wizarding community.”  
  
His Aurors-in-Charge, Harry, Ron, Katie and Thomas, exchanged meaningful glances. It was Monday morning and Robards usually took his time to start off the usual meeting, beginning with small talk and friendly banter about solved cases and and their weekend activities and saving the serious stuff for later.  
  
Today was different. He hadn't even brought the usual amount of biscuits, and the tea was – well, saying it was dilute was an understatement.  
  
“Yesterday, three wizards and one witch were brought to St. Mungo's, each of them with symptoms of being poisoned after ingesting a potion they'd bought at 'Tracy's Tremendous Tinctures'. It's a shady apothecary in Knockturn Alley. During the raid, our team of Hit Wizards confiscated almost every illegal potion you could think of: Amortentia, Wizard's Oblivion, Felix Felicis, to name but a few, and an assortment of Category A poisons.  
  
“It's a recent development. We've been observing that apothecary for years, but they've never sold something overtly dangerous or even particularly expensive before. The shop's owner, Tracy Sherman, confessed that she made a deal with a new supplier a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, she doesn't know who he is. The wizard who sold her the potions used a strong glamour to hide his identity. This person is unscrupulous and ambitious, and either a potions expert himself or working with one.  
  
“It's only a coincidence that led to the raid. It seems a complete batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion, delivered by the new supplier, has gone bad, or been brewed incorrectly in the first place. Our potions experts are still analysing the samples, both the Dreamless Sleep Potions and the illegal potions.  
  
“We've tried to keep both our raid and the investigation secret. We need to find out if other apothecaries are also doing business with our secret supplier. I want to avoid raiding their shops unnecessarily, so I need someone to investigate undercover. That's your job, Langley. Chose one or two of your Junior Aurors, send them to Knockturn Alley and have them ask for some of the forbidden draughts. Nothing too dangerous, of course.”  
  
Robards scratched his grey beard. “Weasley, you have to research Sherman's files and accounts to find out the names of her customers and the products she's sold recently. If some of those higher-Category poisons have already been marketed, we have a _real_ problem.”  
  
Robards grimaced while Ron simply nodded. “Set one or two of your Senior Aurors on the case, those you can trust to do the research thoroughly and not miss any important details.”  
  
“Bell and Potter. One of you needs to meet with our Ministry potions experts at quarter past eleven and learn everything they could find out about the potions and the brewing skills of our supplier. I've already talked to Snape; he's agreed to have one of his assistants work with us for this case.”  
  
Harry groaned. “Please, don't tell me it's Malfoy.”  
  
“It's Malfoy,” Robards replied, hiding his smirk behind his mug. He took a sip of his tea and promptly spat it on the table. “Urgh.”  
  
Harry cursed inwardly. If they had to work with Malfoy, it would be him who had to do it. Even after all these years, Katie could barely stand to be in the same room with Malfoy. Bad memories. _Understandable_ , Harry thought. After all, Malfoy had almost killed her at Hogwarts. On the other hand, he had nearly killed Ron as well, and Ron didn't have issues about working with him. Not because of that, in any case.  
  
“Okay,” Harry said with a sigh. “I'll do it, sir.”  
  
Robards nodded, clearly pleased. “Very good, Potter. Does that mean you're finally becoming a little wiser in your advancing years?”  
  
His fellow Aurors grinned at Harry more or less openly.  
  
“Merely resigned, Sir,” Harry retorted, which earned him a snort from Robards and an arched eyebrow from Ron.  
  
“All right,” Robards resumed his speech. “Bell, you need to go to St. Mungo's. Interview the shop's customers and get the details about their medical conditions. I know your Junior Aurors are already busy with their workload. Don't involve them. Now, we have work to do. Off you go!”  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
The DPMS, short for Department of Potions and Magical Substances, was located on the fourth floor of the Ministry. Since Snape had become the department head, the area had changed a great deal. Before, it had been messy, loud and foul smelling, with filthy laboratories and a few old, unenthusiastic employees who had no idea of what they were doing. The former department head had been a notorious alcoholic, tolerated in his position only because he'd been Fudge's childhood buddy. Now that Snape was in charge, it was unsurprisingly the tidiest and best-organised department in the Ministry.  
  
Harry entered the dim hallway from the lift, trying not to feel like a fifth-year student late for his Potions class. It was difficult, though. Snape still made him feel like a fool on every occasion. It certainly didn't help he had enchanted the walls and floor to look like the Hogwarts dungeons. _Once a bat, always a bat_ , Harry mused, knocking on a dark, wooden office door.  
  
The “Enter!” that followed, uttered in a sharp, familiar voice, made him wince.  
  
Snape was sitting in an armchair behind an antique desk covered with neat piles of paperwork. Two other chairs stood in front of the desk, one of them currently occupied by Draco Malfoy.  
  
Snape glared at Harry with his usual sour expression. “Potter. You're late.”  
  
Harry was tempted to cast _Tempus_ just to prove he was right on time, but decided against it. There was no reason to make a bad situation worse. Surely, he would manage a civilised conversation with Snape and Malfoy just once. “Morning, Snape. Malfoy.”  
  
“Sit down, Potter; don't waste my time with niceties.”  
  
Harry obliged, slouching in the chair with a casual posture he deemed an appropriate reaction to Snape's rudeness. Snape snorted with disgust while Malfoy merely quirked an eyebrow at him, acknowledging Harry's presence as well as his open defiance.  
  
Harry grinned quickly in response. They had never become friends after the war, but both of them had started to enjoy their usual banter instead of taking any insults too seriously. It was hard to hold a grudge after all these years. Malfoy was still a git, but Harry didn't believe he was a bad person altogether. Besides, he was fairly attractive, and looking at him was a lot nicer than looking at Snape's sullen face.  
  
“If you're done with ogling my assistant, Potter, perhaps you could pay attention to the case you're investigating.”  
  
 _Bugger._ This would be a long, miserable day. Harry could tell already.  
  
“My examination of the potions brought some interesting facts to light.” Snape was sitting bolt upright, his hands resting at the table, the fingers of his left hand tapping lightly on the smooth wooden surface. He scrutinised Harry as if he were giving him a lecture. _Once a professor, always a professor._ Harry suppressed a resigned sigh.  
  
“First, the brewer is competent and experienced. The potions are stable and magically strong, the ingredients were treated carefully, and their essence is pure.  
  
“Second, the brewer is greedy. Wherever possible, components were substituted with less expensive alternatives, even in cases where the replacement affects the effect of the potion. For example, the brewer used phoenix feathers instead of ash winder eggs, which lessens the power of Amortentia by shortening the duration of the victim's infatuation. Phoenix feathers are not only much cheaper to purchase but also easier to handle as they don't need to be frozen.  
  
“Third, the brewer's assistants are incompetent fools. The Dreamless Sleep Potion has to be stirred counter-clockwise for the last minute. If one fails to do that, it causes nausea and hallucinations, as well as a nasty headache, the exact symptoms the patients at St. Mungo's experienced.”  
  
“Maybe the brewer simply forgot to do it,” Harry suggested. “Things like that happen.”  
  
Malfoy tried to hide his smile, coughing behind his hand.  
  
“No, Potter,” Snape sneered. “Things like that don't simply _happen_ , especially not to a potions master who is skilled enough to brew Amortentia and Veritaserum. That's a lesson _you've_ never learned: a true expert knows how to avoid crucial mistakes.”  
  
Harry shrugged. He'd known Snape would take the bait. _Once a berk, always a berk._ “All right. So the brewer had an assistant who botched it up. We'd already assumed as much.”  
  
That was a lie, but it was fun winding Snape up by pretending he was relating established facts. “Do you have a list of the confiscated potions?”  
  
It was Malfoy who handed Harry a parchment with a neat chart, containing the name and purpose of every substance his fellow Aurors had found.  
  
Harry scanned it. Most of the seized vessels contained dangerous poisons, highly-addictive drugs and strong aphrodisiacs. “Fuck,” he muttered.  
  
“Language, Potter.”  
  
“Sorry, sir,” he apologised absent-mindedly. He bit his lip, staring at the chart. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the brewer?” he asked.  
  
He noticed Snape's pleased expression. Snape was flattered that Harry wanted his personal opinion, not only his expertise, but he wouldn't have admitted it under torture.  
  
Snape snorted. “He's skilled, but he's no genius. He follows his instructions and probably knows his recipes by heart, but he's not creative enough to experiment with different methods of brewing or invent his own potions.”  
  
Harry smiled. “You mean he'd never crush a sopophorus bean instead of cutting it?”  
  
Snape looked at him with a weird expression. “Indeed, Potter. Now, if you would be so kind to remove your annoying presence from my office, I have work to do.”  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
“All these are confiscated potions?” Harry asked incredulously, looking at the long shelves filled with bottles, vials and jars.  
  
“Yes. Only this year's yield, of course,” Malfoy said.  
  
“Oh. What do you do with them after a year?”  
  
“Feed them to the Aurors.” Malfoy smirked.  
  
Harry laughed until it occurred to him Malfoy was serious. “Wait. You supply us with confiscated potions?”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“They could be poisoned!”  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Please. We're experts. Of course we separate out the dangerous ones.”  
  
Harry stared at him.  
  
Malfoy grinned. “Well, except for the spoilt Nutrition Potions we found at Whitewhistle Manor last year. But that was just for fun. And don't worry. They work perfectly well, apart from the induced farting.”  
  
Harry supposed his current expression had to communicate his consternation rather clearly.  
  
“Oh, come on, Potter. It's a good joke, even you have to admit it.”  
  
“I can't believe you would do that on purpose, Malfoy!”  
  
“Not me. _Him_ ,” Malfoy emphasised, inclining his head towards Snape's office. “And there's nothing wrong with using these potions for the Greater Good, is there? It's economical, too. How do you think Snape managed a balanced budget for the last few years?”  
  
“I'll tell Robards.”  
  
Malfoy laughed gleefully. “Do you really think he doesn't know? He completely approves. After all, he's not a Field Auror anymore.”  
  
“He's a bloody traitor.”  
  
“Whatever you say, Potter. The potions from Sherman's apothecary are right there.” Malfoy pointed at a shelf next to the door, “Sorted by name.”  
  
Malfoy's attempt of distracting him worked well. After all, he was here because of the case. “Is there anything special about the vessels?”Harry asked.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, are there any special characteristics in the way they're sealed, or are they made of a certain kind of glass? Anything like that?”  
  
Malfoy stared at him. “No. There's nothing special about the vessels, you can buy them in every second potions supply store in Diagon Alley. And the sealing wax is a low-quality product. But I think you might be right. There's something...”  
  
He took one of the vials from the shelf. “Now that you've mentioned it, I think there's a mark on every vessel. I didn't notice it before; I thought it was an accidental scratch.”  
  
Harry took the vial from Malfoy's hand, their fingertips brushing. Malfoy's fingers were warm and a little rough on the edges. Startled by the unexpected touch, Harry needed a minute to concentrate on the task on hand. He looked at the wax-sealed vial carefully.  
  
“Right there, at the cap.” Malfoy pointed at a little flaw that was barely visible.  
  
Harry's eyesight, glasses or no glasses, wasn't good enough to discern anything useful, so he cast a microscope charm. “You're right”, he announced. “It's a mark. A letter. An _'S'_ , I think.”  
  
Malfoy handed him another vial.  
  
“Yes. This one, too.”  
  
“The others have similar flaws.”  
  
Harry examined four more vessels until he nodded, ending the microscope charm with a silent _Finite Incantatem_. “He's left his signature.”  
  
“Vain bastard,” Malfoy muttered.  
  
“Me?” Harry asked, indignant.  
  
A quirk at the corner of Malfoy's mouth indicated he had to suppress a smile. “The brewer, Potter.”  
  
“Oh. Right. Well.” Harry cleared his throat. “Did you check them for remnants of magic?” He didn't think the brewer was stupid enough to leave a magical signature, too. But if he did, it would be easy to identify him once they'd tracked him down.  
  
“Yes, and to answer your next question, no, he didn't leave any traces of his personal magic.”  
  
“A pity,” Harry murmured. He glanced at the whole bunch of vials. “Did you check all of them?”  
  
Malfoy scowled. “No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because that's your job, not mine”, Malfoy retorted. “You're the Auror, remember?”  
  
“Oh, do shut up already, I know that.”  
  
“If you want every single one of them checked, you have to do it yourself.”  
  
Harry looked at the shelf, doubtful. “I'll send one of my Junior Aurors here to do it. Keeps them in practise.”  
  
He could see Malfoy was itching to make a cutting remark - about Harry's willingness to have others do the work for him, no doubt - so he quickly changed the topic. “Seems we'll be working together for the next few days. I was surprised Snape agreed to it. He usually claims you're indispensable.”  
  
He realised belatedly that he'd just complimented Malfoy.  
  
“Well, I am. But you'll need my expertise.”  
  
“Humble as ever.”  
  
“I don't need to be humble, Potter; I know that I'm good. You, on the other hand, are a lost cause with potions.”  
  
Harry sighed. “Of course. You're stating the obvious, you know. I'm amazed it took you so long to rehash this particular insult. Come one; I'm freezing here. Let's have some lunch. Chinese?”  
  
Malfoy didn't move, staring at Harry with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “You're inviting me for lunch?”  
  
“It's my charitable day. Don't get used to it.”  
  
  
 **II**  
  
Having lunch with Malfoy was kind of surreal, Harry decided. They were sitting in a crowded room in the Chinese restaurant, facing each other over a tiny, ramshackle table.  
  
Their knees almost touched. From this distance, Harry could even see the fine freckles on Malfoy's permanently scrunched up nose. They were much too close for Harry to be comfortable.  
  
Malfoy had chosen roasted duck and rice; Harry fried chicken and noodles. Malfoy seemed to enjoy himself, licking his lips and taking his time to taste every bite carefully before swallowing.  
  
“Seeing you and Severus together reminds me of Hogwarts,” Malfoy stated, picking at his duck with a chopstick.  
  
“Yeah. He still hates my guts,” Harry admitted. “He allows you to call him Severus?” he added as an afterthought.  
  
“In private.”  
  
“Are you two friends?”  
  
“Severus doesn't have any friends, but he's an old acquaintance of my mother.”  
  
Harry took a sip of his beer. It was refreshingly cold. “I didn't know.”  
  
“There are many things you don't know.”  
  
“Too true. By the way, I've never asked how you came to be his assistant in the first place.”  
  
“You're right. You haven't.”  
  
Harry scowled at him.  
  
“Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm good at potions, and I'm good at organising work and supervising others, that's how. And, unlike Severus, I'm polite and charming, so it's easier for me to deal with bothersome Aurors and the like.”  
  
“Polite and charming?”  
  
“My mother's words, not mine.”  
  
“I didn't realise,” Harry said weakly.  
  
Malfoy grinned. “Maybe, if you ask nicely, I'll show you just how charming I can be.”  
  
“Oh, come on, that's a terrible line,” Harry complained. “Besides, you're not exactly my type.”  
  
“We all know your type, Potter. It's been in the newspapers for weeks.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Harry muttered, aware that he was blushing and left with no chance to hide it.  
  
“You don't have to resort to premature insults just because you're embarrassed. Honestly, if you didn't want to be caught snogging Goldstein in public, you should have chosen a more secluded place than the Leaky Cauldron on a Friday night.”  
  
“At least I had someone to snog,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I remember seeing you standing at the bar the same evening, drowning your miseries in firewhisky.”  
  
Malfoy drew a sharp breath, all amusement gone in the blink of an eye.  
  
Startled, Harry looked at him, trying to figure out why he was so touchy all of a sudden. They'd exchanged insults far more cutting than that without flinching.  
  
Malfoy was pale, but then, he was always pale. His eyes appeared somehow clouded. His posture was rigid, all his nonchalance gone. Harry had seemingly touched a sore spot.  
  
He decided, for once, not to harp on about it. “What's it like, having to work with Snape all the time?” he asked instead.  
  
Something like guarded relief showed on Malfoy's face. “Pleasant, actually. He's a fellow Slytherin at heart. And he likes me.”  
  
“You're lucky,” Harry murmured, taking a bite of his chicken and chewing thoroughly.  
  
“As opposed to you, I know better than to push his buttons on purpose,” Malfoy said dryly.  
  
With a rueful grimace, Harry gulped down more of his beer. “I can't help it.”  
  
“I had assumed as much. Must be part of being a Gryffindor, I guess.”  
  
“Oh, sod off.”  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
Robards summoned his Aurors-in-Charge for an impromptu conference at 17:30, and instructed Harry to bring Malfoy along, too. Malfoy took his sweet time to make his way to the Auror Department, and they made it to the conference room just in time. When they entered the room, however, only Katie and Ron were there. Harry inclined his head questioningly towards Thomas' empty chair.  
  
“He was called to St. Mungo's,” Ron explained, interpreting Harry's gesture correctly with practised ease. “Proserpina is in labour.”  
  
“Really? Isn't it far too early?”  
  
Ron shook his head, amused. “Where have you been lately, Harry? The baby is two weeks overdue.”  
  
“Oh.” Harry took his seat next to Katie.  
  
Malfoy sat down beside Ron, greeting him and Katie with a nod. “Bell. Weasley.”  
  
“Malfoy,” Ron replied in a neutral tone, while Katie gave him the curtest nod in return.  
  
A minute later, Robards rushed in, his robes billowing, and headed directly for his chair. “What a shitty day.”  
  
Malfoy, not used to the Head Auror's blatant mode of expression, lifted his eyebrows.  
  
Harry grinned at him and was rewarded with a tiny smirk that made his heart miss a beat, just once.  
  
“The Sherman case is getting worse by the minute. One of Langley's Junior Aurors slipped his cover and gave our investigation away.”  
  
Ron groaned, Katie grimaced, and Harry fought the urge to bang his fist on the table. Thomas' Junior Aurors were a bunch of incompetent fools. It wasn't Thomas' fault, but that didn't make it better.  
  
“We can only hope our brewer doesn't find out too soon. We'll have to act now, before he gets the opportunity to go into hiding. Fortunately, Sherman has decided to cooperate with us. She hasn't agreed to be questioned under Veritaserum yet, but she gave us the time and the date of her next delivery appointment. It's this evening.”  
  
“Shit,” Ron muttered. “Not enough time to secure the setting.” Ron was the department's specialist for preparing setups and backing.  
  
“No. We need to improvise,” Robards admitted, sounding weary.  
  
“That's nothing new,” Harry said. “How many people do we have to deal with?”  
  
“Only one. She's met him two times already, and he used the same glamour both times.”  
  
“Verification required?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Katie started chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought. “Polyjuice.”  
  
“Strong Disillusionment charms,” Ron added. “And, of course, TP devices.”  
  
“That's not enough,” Harry insisted. “We also need tracking spells.”  
  
“Of course,” Ron agreed. “Can't take a risk.”  
  
Katie frowned. “What about the wards?”  
  
“Shit.” Harry scowled at the empty chair. “None of us is good enough to bring them down in time. - Except for you, sir,” he qualified his statement, looking at Robards.  
  
Robards sighed. “Too bloody old for that, Potter.”  
  
“What about Jones? Goldstein?” Ron asked.  
  
“Megan is on holiday,” Katie said.  
  
“All right, but what about Tony?”  
  
Harry winced. “Fraternising rule, remember?”  
  
Ron shot him a rueful smile. “Shit. Forgot about that.”  
  
Malfoy coughed.  
  
Four faces turned to him.  
  
“Malfoy,” Robards said, his voice polite. “Is there anything you'd like to add?”  
  
Malfoy looked cool and in control. “If I'm interpreting the fragments of your conversation correctly,” he said, grazing each of them with a significant glare, “You need someone to dismantle the wards at the suspect's hide-out.”  
  
Robards nodded, amused. “Exactly, Mr Malfoy.”  
  
“I offer my services. I'm quite good with wards, and I need to go with them anyway, in case they find a laboratory there.”  
  
“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Robards began, only to be interrupted by Katie.  
  
“No,” she said sharply.  
  
“Why not?” Malfoy asked in his refined, expressionless voice.  
  
Gazing at him, Harry could see he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be. There were tiny beads of perspiration at his hairline. His posture was defensive, arms crossed at his chest,his fingers clenched in the fabric of his robes.  
  
“You're not an Auror,” Katie retorted. “You're a civil expert working for the ministry. We can't trust you.”  
  
Her words were as good as a punch in the stomach.  
  
Malfoy blinked, once, and his shoulders tensed a little, but other than that, he gave no sign of distress. “I've been working for the DPMS for five years, and I'm already involved in the case. I'm the department head's assistant, for Merlin's sake. If you can't trust me, you can't trust Snape, and if you can't trust Snape, you can't trust the Minister, or Potter here, for both of them are responsible for employing him – and me - in the first place.”  
  
Katie was pale under her carefully applied make-up. “That's different. You're a Death Eater.”  
  
Malfoy was pale, too. Harry saw his hands trembling slightly. Despite his efforts at pretending not to be bothered by Katie's accusations, Harry realised he was hurt, and failing miserably at hiding his vulnerability, at least as far as Harry was concerned.  
  
It stirred his own urge to protect him rather forcefully.  
  
 _Oh, shit. I'm developing a crush on Draco Malfoy._ It was a fleeting thought, and he suppressed it immediately when Robards cleared his throat.  
  
“I'm afraid you're mistaken, Miss Bell, and I shall strongly advise you to reconsider your attitude,” he informed Katie. She flinched when he addressed her formally, something Robards rarely ever did. “Mr Malfoy is as trustworthy as any Auror or Ministry employee, and he's not a Death Eater. Personal grudges, understandable as they may be, don't belong here. You ought to know that.”  
  
“It's not -”  
  
“I trust Malfoy,” Ron said all of a sudden, interrupting her. “If he thinks he can cope with the wards, I'm ready to give it a try.”  
  
Katie was gaping at Ron with sheer disbelief. “How can you say that? He almost killed you!”  
  
All Harry wanted to do was make her shut up. He didn't want to watch Malfoy's pained expression for any longer. “Katie, get a grip. We're on a job here. Malfoy's as good as any Auror with his wandwork. Ron and I will track the suspect down, and he will go with us.”  
  
She laughed, derisively. “Do whatever you want, Harry, but don't be surprised if he decides to stab you in the back when you least expect it. He'll let you down; he's a spineless coward.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I'll take the risk,” he said coolly.  
  
“Could you please concentrate on the task at hand?” Robards' strained voice cut in. “Leave the territorial pissing for another day when we've got more time. The meeting with the supplier is taking place at 19:00 precisely.”  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
“All right,” Malfoy whispered, close to Harry's ear. “Tell me once more why we're here.”  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably. He wondered why he had ever considered it a good idea to include Malfoy in their field mission, especially when it meant spending an hour or more in close proximity to him under a Disillusionment charm, hiding both of them in a corner of the shady, dark alley. Malfoy was restless, moving constantly, shifting his weight, squirming, scratching, and twirling his wand.  
  
And he smelled good. Spicy, with traces of his cologne and potions ingredients, clean with a note of underlying male sweat which, combined with the fact it was _Malfoy's_ sweat, that stirred Harry's arousal. It was irritating, to say the least.  
  
For the first few minutes, he'd found Malfoy's excitement endearing. Now, he was torn between the urge to strangle him and the desperate desire to snog him senseless. He didn't know which was worse.  
  
“You know the plan. Be still. You're wiggling your arse like a bitch in heat.”  
  
“No need to be rude, Potter. I already know you like my arse.”  
  
“Yeah. Any minute, I'll lovingly kick it all the way back to Wiltshire.”  
  
“Now wouldn't _that_ be interesting.”  
  
Harry asked himself why Malfoy chose this special moment to blatantly flirt with him.  
  
“So, Potter, what does snogging Goldstein have to do with him not being allowed to work with you?”  
  
Harry all but groaned. “It's a rule, Malfoy, and it's not as stupid as is sounds.”  
  
“What's the reason behind it?”  
  
“If you work with someone you're shagging, you get distracted by his - or her - presence easily. Aurors can't afford that kind of distraction.”  
  
“That's rubbish, Potter. Don't tell me people do their jobs better when they're sexually frustrated.”  
  
Harry had to suppress a laugh. “No. But -”  
  
“If that were the case, Bell would be Head Auror.”  
  
“Don't,” Harry said flatly. Regardless of her earlier diatribe, Katie was still a fellow Auror, and a good friend at that. To his astonishment, Draco fell silent. Unfortunately, his taciturnity lasted only for a minute.  
  
“So you actually shagged Goldstein?”  
  
Harry flinched. “That's none of your business.”  
  
“The snogging part, I saw for myself, but I wondered whether it was for real or merely a diversion.”  
  
“Why would you think that?”  
  
“You didn't seem too eager at the time.”  
  
“Why, Malfoy, I didn't know you cared,” Harry murmured, smirking.  
  
“And you stopped snogging every time your little Veela girlfriend left the room.”  
  
 _Fuck._ Had he really been so obvious?  
  
He didn't ask the question aloud, but Draco answered it nonetheless. “Don't worry; I don't think anyone else noticed your little charade. To me, though, it seemed as if you felt the need to make a statement.”  
  
Malfoy described the situation that evening pretty accurately, Harry thought. “Yeah,” he said off-handedly. “Gabrielle never did want to listen to me when I told her I was gay.”  
  
“So you decided a bit of public snogging might do the trick?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
“And Goldstein?”  
  
“I told him, and he was willing to help. Besides, he's a good kisser.”  
  
“And a good shag?” Malfoy insisted.  
  
“I don't kiss and tell.”  
  
“Prude.”  
  
“Nosy bastard. Why were you even watching me? Are you obsessed with my love-life?”  
  
Malfoy laughed, but he didn't deny it. “It gave me something to ponder about. That way, I didn't have to consider my own relationship issues.”  
  
Never before had Malfoy so much as hinted at his private life. It made Harry curious. “Tell me.”  
  
“I had just broken up with my fiancée. I needed the distraction.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“No need to console me, really. She was a nasty bint anyway.”  
  
“If you say so,” Harry said, eyeing the alleyway for traffic. “Now stop talking. The Disillusionment charm can only do so much, and if you keep on rambling like that, we might as well cancel the spell.”  
  
“Yes, oh mighty Auror-in-Charge.”  
  
One day, he would definitely strangle Malfoy. _Snog him first_ , a part of his brain suggested. He sighed. It had been a long day. Also, it had been a _long_ time since he last got laid. His current, disturbing infatuation was probably due to his state of sexual starvation.  
  
He kept himself from pondering on the subject further by observing the alleyway again. He had to make sure they didn't miss anything important.  
  
Katie, polyjuiced as Sherman, stood in the doorway of the deserted warehouse the supplier had chosen for their exchange. Harry and Draco were standing at the opposite side of the street, while Ron waited about three yards away from her. They couldn't see him, but Harry knew where he was. He'd marked his position with two ordinary pebbles, just like Harry and Draco.  
  
Katie's pockets were filled with galleons, two of them disguised TP devices, which would allow them to track the suspect down and portkey them to his location as soon as they activated the matching counterpart currently hidden in Harry's pocket. Of course, the exchange had to take place successfully for their plan to work out. They would still cast conventional tracking charms to supplement the TPs once the suspects showed up.  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
About half an hour later, it finally happened. Two men materialised in the farthest corner of the alleyway, ruining their plan rather thoroughly, since they had expected only one.  
  
Their appearances had been made nondescript by the glamour they were wearing, the two of them were remarkably _un_ remarkable. One of them was carrying a big box. The other had his wand drawn, though he kept his left hand in his pocket, glancing around warily, before heading for the doorway where Katie was standing.  
  
Katie feigned impatience by shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “About time,” she said in Sherman's rough voice.  
  
The two suspects approached her cautiously. “Minor complications,” one of the men said in a high, whiny tone. They were standing with their backs to Malfoy and him, the one with the wand shielding his companion from their view, an unfortunate situation.  
  
“Let's get on with it, then,” Katie said. She turned her back to them, intending to open the door.  
  
“Wait,” the man with the wand said. His voice was much deeper and sounded quite pleasant. “We have to make sure everything's in order. Measure of precaution. There have been rumours -”  
  
 _Shit_ , Harry, thought, inhaling sharply. They'd already heard of the Ministry's investigation, if not of yesterday's raid.  
  
“I don't have time for that,” Katie snapped. “You're already late, I need to get back to my shop.”  
  
“There's always time for answering a single question,” the one with the wand said coolly. “Last time, you told me you wanted us to procure a special potion for you. Which one?”  
  
 _Bollocks._ They were truly fucked. It was mere moments before the two men realised it was a set-up. Immediately, Harry began to cast a simple tracking charm on the man who still held his wand. Ron would cast the advanced version, which took longer to cast, but was far more reliable.  
  
Katie didn't hesitate to confess her lack of knowledge. “Really? I'm afraid I don't remember.” She was trying to stall, to give Harry and Ron enough time to place the tracking spells.  
  
The two men didn't buy it for a second.  
  
Before Harry had time to realise what was happening, the first man lunged at Katie, attacking her with the box and hitting her in the head, causing a sickening cracking noise. The other man retrieved a bottle from his pocket and threw it to the ground. In the blink of an eye, a dense fog formed all around them, enclosing the two suspects, Katie and even Ron. It was impervious and, as Harry knew from first-hand experience, impenetrable to any kind of magic.  
  
“Shit!” Malfoy growled.  
  
Harry had already abandoned his Disillusionment charm, heading for the fog, with Malfoy following him close.  
  
He heard Ron's voice, dampened by the fog, call out something like, “Auror Department – don't move!”  
  
Knowing it was already too late, he fought his way through the dense mist. It was tough, like moving rough water or liquid glue, every movement twice as exhausting. Malfoy was beside him, his lips forming counter spells to banish the fog, without success.  
  
The crack of apparition, too, was damped. Harry heard it, though, his heart sinking. _We've really messed up this time._  
  
After what seemed ages, but was in fact mere seconds, they reached Ron and Katie. Ron was kneeling at her side, checking her injuries. Harry went down to his knees beside him. There was too much blood to judge the degree of damage caused by the attack. Katie was unconscious, her wand lying next to her on the ground.  
  
“No healing charms,” Ron said, his voice hoarse. “Have to take her to St. Mungo's.” He'd already taken the portkey from his pocket, the one every Auror owned, which would take the two of them directly to the Emergency Ward at the hospital.  
  
“Could you place the tracking spell?” Harry asked, breathing hard.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Shit. We can't wait. We need to track them down now, before the other spell fades or gets detected.”  
  
“Too dangerous. You have to wait for backup -”  
  
“No. You take Katie to St. Mungo's and send backup as soon as possible, all right? Malfoy and I will manage. We'll be careful, but if we don't track them down now, we'll never have the chance again.”  
  
He threw a questioning gaze at Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy simply nodded. “Lead the way.”  
  
They had to walk through the clouded air once more. “Side-along,” Harry said as soon as they'd reached the fog's periphery, gripping Malfoy's arm tightly and pulling him forward a few more steps until they'd left the magical haze completely. “Wands at the ready. I'll cast the strongest Disilllusionment charm possible as soon as I can. You concentrate on the wards, if there are any.”  
  
“What if it's a trap?”  
  
“Then we're screwed,” Harry replied curtly.  
  
He concentrated on the chain link the tracking spell had embedded in his own mind, the reflection of the suspect's magical signature, which could be backtracked to the location where the man had used magic for the last time. Fortunately, apparition left traces of magic not only at the Disapparation spot, but also at the arrival point. Harry took a deep breath, focusing on the faint echo of magic somewhere out there. “Hold on,” he said to Malfoy, before apparating them both to the unknown destination.

 

  
 **III**  
  
Harry could feel the tingle of wards recognising and repelling them as intruders, causing them to land in front of a small building. It looked like an old shed recently rebuilt. His wand drawn and ready, he turned around quickly, trying to identify any possible sources of danger and searching for cover. An old, low stonewall surrounded the building, and he ducked behind it, pulling Malfoy with him.  
  
“All right,” he whispered. “What about the wards?”  
  
Malfoy's hawthorn wand was already swishing and twisting while its owner murmured quiet incantations.  
  
Impressed, Harry set to work, Disillusioning them once again. Fleetingly, he hoped Ron and Katie had gotten to St. Mungo's in time. He watched the shed more closely from his hidden position. It seemed not to have any windows, only a big gate. He tried to sense the wards, frowning when he realised how strong they were. Would Malfoy really be able to bring them down?  
  
A second later, he felt the first ward unravel, diffusing into nothing. He arched an eyebrow at Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy gave him a small, strained smile. “Told you so,” he whispered, only to close his eyes again and returned to dealing with the remaining wards.  
  
About two minutes later, the last one fell.  
  
Harry hadn't felt the tracking spell change, which meant the suspect was still here and hadn't cast any powerful spells so far, but, the tracking spell wouldn't last much longer.  
  
Malfoy swiped at his sweat-stained face with a sleeve. “All right,” he murmured. “Your turn, Auror Potter.”  
  
“Stay at my side, a little behind me, but not too far. You need to cover my back. Don't cast any unnecessary spells, or they'll interfere with the Disillusionment charms. No dark spells, only Ministry-approved magic. Disarm them, stun them, but no life-threatening curses.”  
  
Malfoy nodded.  
  
Cautiously they climbed over the wall and approached the shed. As soon as they'd reached the outer wall, Harry pressed his ear to the wooden wall. He couldn't hear anything inside. Had the suspects already left? Or were they waiting for them, setting up traps? Harry knew he and Malfoy had to act now, as much as he wished they had backup here, preferably Ron and some of the war-experienced Senior Aurors.  
  
They walked around the building. If they had to go through the main gate, they'd never remain unnoticed. Fortunately, they found another, smaller door at the back. Harry hesitated only a short moment before pushing down on the door handle and edging it open so that he could look inside.  
  
It was dim. He saw a line of shelves, stocked with boxes, bottles, bundles of dried herbs and minerals, and empty vials the same size and style of the confiscated potions.  
  
The shelves worked as a room divider, splitting the shed in a smaller front part and a bigger section in the rear. They didn't reach the ceiling, but Harry couldn't see anything of what was behind them. The space between the topmost shelf and the roof was covered by pieces of sackcloth, as well as the narrow passage between the shelves. A bit of light shone through a gap in the worn fabric.  
  
He couldn't hear any noises, which was alarming in itself. If the two men were still here, he'd have expected them to be in a hurry, packing their things and preparing to leave. The shed didn't own a fireplace. Had had they activated a portkey?  
  
“ _Homenum revelio_ ,” he whispered, aiming his wand at the passage and the space behind it, including the whole width of the shed.  
  
He held his breath when the spell showed him the presence of one human being, somewhere behind the shelves, motionless, but alive, in a sitting position.  
  
“Only one of them,” Harry whispered to Malfoy, noticing distractedly that Malfoy was so close to him he could feel his body heat seeping through his robes and into his skin. “I'll go in. Stay right here until I'm at the passage.”  
  
He sneaked inside, avoiding any unnecessary movement, grateful for the tightly cut Auror robes that allowed them freedom of motion but didn't billow and got caught in furniture or vegetation.  
  
He reached the improvised curtain and peered through the gap.  
  
What he could see of the interior indicated that at least one of their suspects currently used this shed as his dwelling. Harry could distinguish a table and two chairs, one covered by different items of clothing, one occupied by a pile of old papers, and, on top of those, a box of chocolate biscuits. A shelf on the opposite wall contained a collection of dishes: plates and cups and a cracked teapot.  
  
Very carefully, he pulled the curtain aside, looking to the right. He could see a huge sofa and the silhouette of a person sitting on it, with stretched-out legs, feet clad in worn-out boots and resting on a threadbare carpet.  
  
He had a two options. He could charge the room and put the suspect out of commission with a well-aimed Stunner, which wasn't entirely legal in this situation. He had no proof yet the person on the couch was one of their suspects, and he wasn't allowed to attack random people without a compelling reason. Of course, in this case things were a little different. An Auror had already been injured, badly, and even if Harry chose a nasty spell to deal with the culprit, no one would do so much as question his motives. The proper protocol, however, demanded he gave the suspect the chance to cooperate. He bit his lip, indecisive for a moment or two.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a voice shout “ _Stupefy_!” from behind his back.  
  
Whirling around, he saw Malfoy tumble to the ground, stunned. One of the men they'd seen in the alley stood behind him, his wand aimed at Harry's heart.  
  
Harry cast his shield charm wordlessly with a mere flick of his wand, just in time to block the next bolt of red light.  
He pressed himself tightly against one of the shelves to shield his back, at the same time casting _Petrificus Totalus_ at his attacker, followed by _Expelliarmus_. His opponent dodged the body-bind, but not the disarming spell. His wand was snatched from his hand, flying towards Harry. Without trying to catch it, Harry cast another Body-Bind Curse instead and turned round once more to face the other man, who had just ripped off the curtain. “ _Expelliarmus_!”  
  
“ _Stupefy_!”  
  
The stunning spell missed Harry by mere inches, but Harry's disarming spell also failed to hit his target. Backing off to gain more space to move more freely, Harry met a physical barrier. It was a protruding bale of pixie hair that led to his doom, the unexpected resistance making him stumble in an unsuccessful attempt to keep his balance. The moment of distraction, however, was enough for his opponent to cast _Stupefy_ again, hitting Harry directly at the chest. The stunning spell immediately took effect, and he fell limply to the floor.  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
“You bloody morons! How could you be so utterly stupid bring them here! The Aurors will be at our doorstep before we've got time enough to pray to Merlin to save us from your idiocy!”  
  
“We didn't know what to do! We panicked! Should we have killed them?”  
  
“The Ministry will have our heads for this!”  
  
“They have to find us first!”  
  
“How thick can you be? Don't you know anything about tracking spells?”  
  
“Er -”  
  
“You should at least have ransacked their pockets and left their equipment behind!”  
  
“But you got rid of it already!”  
  
“Not fast enough. If I'd known you two were so incredibly incompetent - “  
  
“Shut up, Grey! It's not our fucking fault. If you hadn't screwed up the potions -”  
  
“Don't you dare blame it on me! If you two hadn't been so greedy – I told you to cancel the deal!”  
  
“Just because there's been an investigation on illegal potions doesn't mean the Ministry knows anything for real!”  
  
“Well, obviously, they do!”  
  
Silence.  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
 _Oh, shit. This is **not** good_ , was Harry's thought. He had finally regained consciousness, the conversation he'd just overheard lingering in the back of his mind. Trying to open his eyes, he realised he was blindfolded, lying on his side with his hands and feet bound. He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there in the first place. His wrists were tied behind his back with a strong rope that cut into his skin. The blindfold was heavy and hot on his head. Shifting cautiously, he realised that they had stripped him of his Auror robes and his winter clothes. He was only wearing his shirt, his socks and his trousers. Even his shoes and his belt had been removed.  
  
Fidgeting on the ground, he tried to learn the boundaries of his position. It was hopeless, he was forced to acknowledge all too quickly. The ropes were too tight.  
  
He had no idea of his surroundings. Trying to orient himself by hearing alone, relating the voices he'd heard to his position on the floor, he drew the conclusion he was lying in the corner of the room rather than in the middle.  
  
Three different voices. Obviously, they had underestimated their opponents. Wincing, he realised he had only himself to blame. If he had waited for backup, as Ron had suggested – _Ron. Katie. Shit._  
  
 _Malfoy. Double shit._  
  
Where was Malfoy? His captors had mentioned _'them'_ , so obviously Malfoy was still there. _Somewhere_. Harry concentrated on his hearing, trying to find out if someone was breathing in his vicinity.  
  
Had he just heard a tiny, muted moan?  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
“What are we going to do now? Getting rid of them somehow? I mean -”  
  
“Shut up and let me think, you idiots.”  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
This time, the moan was audible, and it sounded a lot like Malfoy's voice. Harry closes his eyes with relief. At least Malfoy was still alive.  
  
Obviously, their captors had also heard it.  
  
“Looks like someone's back in the land of the living,” the man called Grey said nastily.  
  
“Should we stun them again?” one of the others said.  
  
“No, I don't think so. We'll have a nice little chat instead.”  
  
Strong hands were pulling at the ropes and gripping his shoulders, wrenching him to an upright position. Harry had to support himself awkwardly with his bound hands to keep balance.  
  
“The Boy-Who-Lived,” a voice close to Harry's ear said, belonging to the one called Grey. “The Auror-Too-Fucking-Nosy-For-His-Own-Good.

I'd say it was nice to meet you, but actually, I could have done without this encounter. Nevertheless, I intend to make the most of this unexpected turn of events.”

  


Harry knew better than to take the bait. He kept silent. A cold hand touched his hair. He refrained himself from flinching.

“It seems I have to change my plans. My – let's call them associates - have been a little over-eager, but I will make sure to benefit from the situation, unfortunate as it is.” Grey's voice was cool and refined, lacking hostility towards Harry as well as any kind of humour or warmth. Harry could hear barely concealed anger, but it was directed towards Grey's two co-conspirators.  
Grey hid his cruelty well. He was far too controlled to act rash, which made him an unpleasant opponent. He wasn't likely to listen to Harry's arguments. Harry had to try, though.

“Listen, Grey -”

“I didn't ask for your opinion, Mr Potter. Keep your mouth shut, or I will gag you,” Grey said precisely.

“Your threats don't intimidate me.”

“Oh, Mr Potter, I'm not threatening you. I don't need to. We both know I could kill you easily any moment, if I wished to. And, no, Mr Potter, you've no chance to convince me to let you go. Quite the opposite. I think you and Mr Malfoy will enjoy my hospitality for a while. I don't reckon the Ministry will be too eager to storm a house where the Chosen One is held hostage, and take the risk of him being hurt or killed just because of a few potions that were sold to carefully selected customers. I rather assume they will gladly pay a vault of Galleons to prevent me from harming you and provide me with an international portkey as soon as possible.”

Harry didn't respond. Grey was clever, but he was wrong in this case. The Auror Department had strict orders not to negotiate with felons in cases like these. Every Auror knew the risks of their jobs, and that if they were taken captive, they were on their own. There would be false negotiations, with the Aurors trying to stall while investigating at a stretch to find him in time, but no exchange of money and no international portkey.

He knew better than to tell Grey, though. He just scowled, hoping Grey would think Harry was angry about the prospect of a criminal getting away with blackmail. There was nothing left to say.

Grey seemed to come to the same conclusion. “ _Stupefy_!”

  


**IV**

The next time Harry opened his eyes, it was because someone was urgently shaking his shoulder. “Potter! Wake up, you twit.”

Harry sat up slowly, realising that the ropes were gone.

They were locked in a tiny room with a heavy wooden door. A cell, likely subterranean, judging by the musty smell. He was sitting on a narrow cot, the only piece of furniture. Someone had put a pile of blankets on the stone floor. Apart from that, a lit candle standing on the floor and an old bucket next to the door, the room was empty.

Except for him and Malfoy, who was currently staring at Harry with an unreadable expression,

“Bullshit,” Harry muttered.

“Very eloquent, Potter.”

“Where are we?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I don't know for sure, but I'd guess we're in Grey Castle, near Oakham.”

“Grey Castle?”

“I thought you were aware of that. You seemed to know with whom you were speaking.”

“I heard the others call him Grey. Doesn't mean I know anything about him.”

“Oh. Well, I recognised his voice. It's Octavian Grey, heir of the Grey family. Old pureblood ancestry.”

“Were they Death Eaters?”

Malfoy snorted. “No. Just because they're purebloods doesn't mean they were on Vodemort's side, you know.”

“I know that,” Harry said, irritated.

“Of course you do. The Greys weren't exactly neutral, either. They'd invested in some dubious Ministry projects when Voldemort ran the place and lost lots of money when you killed him. Grey's father committed suicide a week after the Final Battle.”

“Fuck.”

“Don't worry. Grey's too clever to blame you. But it explains the motives behind his little potions business, don't you agree?”

“Probably. Do you know him personally?”

“We've met once or twice at one of Blaise's parties. Never talked to him in person.”

“But he recognises you?”

“Most likely.”

“Does he know that you're not an Auror?”

Malfoy looked at him with a frown. “Does it matter?”

“He might let you go.”

“Not bloody likely,” Malfoy said, the tone of his voice implying Harry was an idiot for considering it a possibility.

“I'm sorry,” Harry admitted. “I shouldn't have insisted on going after them. Not without backup.”

“Oh, Potter, just cut it. I knew bloody well what I was getting into when I offered to join you.”

“Still...”

“Stop wallowing in guilt. We need to get out of here, so you had better start coming up with a useful idea or two.”

Malfoy was thinking much more clearly than he was, Harry realised with embarrassment. “You're right,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly.

Malfoy's smile was completely unexpected. “About bloody time for you to acknowledge my brilliance.”

“Git.”

“Takes one to know one. Budge over, Potter, I don't want to sit on the floor.”

Harry moved to the side so that Malfoy could sit down on the cot. It creaked menacingly under their combined weight.

“So,” Malfoy started. “We don't know much about our location, but -”

“Shh.” Harry leaned closer to him. “As long as we don't know whether they're eavesdropping, we shouldn't talk too loud,” he said quietly.

“You're only looking for an excuse to snuggle up to me, Potter. Admit it.”

“Yeah, sure. - How long have you been awake? Could you hear or see anything of importance?”

Malfoy turned his head to face him, talking in a soft voice that was barely audible. “I only woke up when I was dumped to the floor, quite unceremoniously, I must say. They locked us in here, and a few minutes later, they came back with the blankets. Told me to stand with my back against the wall, one of them throwing the blankets on the floor, the other one threatening me with a wand the whole time. They still wore glamours, but I'm pretty sure I recognised at least one of them. Cyril Spencer, he was in Slytherin, three years behind us at school. He was always proud of his signet ring, although his heritage consists of nothing but a decaying cottage in the Highlands and an empty Gringotts vault. Anyway, I can't imagine he gave up the ring willingly, so it has to be him. And the other one might be his cousin, Marc Higgins. They were quite close at school, always sitting together in the common room and playing stupid pranks on others.”

“Was Grey in Slytherin, too?”

“I don't think so. Ravenclaw, if I remember correctly.”

“So, did one of them brew these potions?”

Malfoy shrugged. “No idea. I can rule out Spencer, though, he's just as hopeless as you.”

“Thank you ever so much.”

“You're welcome.”

Harry snorted and got up from the cot. He went to the door and touched it, examining the wood, even pressing his ear against it. He couldn't hear anything. There was a small gap between the door and the floor, not big enough he could see anything useful. A glimmer of light was shining through it, though, flickering like a torch.

The door was designed to open outward. It had no door handle and no lock. Most likely, it was secured with a bar on the other side. There was no hatch or window. Harry didn't know if the door was charmed to be transparent from the other side, but if it wasn't, the guards had to open the door before talking to them. But there was no space to hide behind the door and surprise a careless guard.

Harry sighed and joined Malfoy on the cot.

Malfoy gazed at him with raised eyebrows. “What now?”

“We wait.”

 

~~~~~

They didn't have to wait too long. About half an hour later, judging from the way the candle had burnt low, they heard steps approaching from the outside. Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look. They had agreed to cooperate with their captors for the moment, to a certain extent. If they got any opportunity to escape, they would use it.

Seconds later, the door was opened, and a tray with food was levitated into the room. Harry could see two men standing in the corridor; one of them, wearing the ring Draco had mentioned, was standing guard, while the other directed the tray to the floor in front of the cot. Their faces were now their own, the glamour gone.

Harry memorised their features as well as their postures and the way they held their wands when they were casting spells, and compared it to what he had seen in the alleyway. He drew the conclusion Spencer had been the one to attack Katie.

Malfoy gazed at their captors with narrowed eyes. “Spencer and Higgins. How did you two end up as Grey's sidekicks?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Spencer sneered. “You really don't want us piss us off, do you?”

“Be reasonable,” Malfoy drawled, unimpressed. “You won't get away with this, not with keeping the Chosen One prisoner. I thought you were cleverer than that.”

“Shut up, Malfoy. Grey wants _him_ ,” Spencer jerked his head at Harry, “alive and well, but I don't think he'd mind so much if you got caught on the wrong side of a dark curse or two.”

“Oh, but the Ministry will,” Harry cut in coolly. “Each spell you use against one of us will be held against you when you face trial. If you decide to turn yourself in, on the other hand -”

“Nice try, Potter,” Spencer retorted venomously. “We're not that stupid.”

Harry realised that Higgins didn't say one word, avoiding both his and Malfoy's gaze. When the tray had landed on the floor,  
Higgins stepped back, preparing to close the door manually.

“Spencer? In your position, I'd seriously reconsider my choice of career. Doing the dirty work for Grey seems a little derogatory, even for someone like you,” Malfoy said, his voice edged with sarcasm.

Spencers face contorted with rage He lifted his wand and shot a stinging hex at Malfoy, making him jerk, although Malfoy tried to suppress the involuntary reaction. Spencer laughed. “You better watch your mouth, Malfoy. If you keep on talking like that, things will get really nasty.”

Higgins shook his head, ignoring Harry and Malfoy. “Come on,” he said to Spencer. “No need to waste our time here.”

The door was closed with a heavy thud.

Immediately Harry got up, listening at the door once more to find out in which direction they went. He could hear their voices fading with growing distance but he wasn't able to distinguish single words.

In the meantime, Malfoy was inspecting the tray. “Bread and cheese.” He scrunched up his nose. “And water.” He took the bread and sniffed at it, then had a close look at the cheese.

Harry joined him on the floor a minute later. “Any signs of poison?”

“None. But the water still might be spiked with Veritaserum. It's impossible to detect.”

“We have to take the risk, I guess. Maybe one of us should try first...”

Malfoy grinned. “Since you Aurors are guinea pigs anyway, have a go.”

Harry threw him a dark glance, but there was no use in arguing about it. He took a tentative sip of the water. “Tastes fine.”

“No sudden urge to spill all your dirty little secrets?”

“No.”

“Pity, really.”

“Don't you think your attempt of being humorous is a little inappropriate right now?” Harry asked mildly.

“One of us has to supply entertainment. Not my fault you're about as funny as a dead snail.”

“A _dead snail_? You should really work on your metaphors, Malfoy.”

“Whatever.”

They ate in silence. The cold water was refreshing and helped Harry clear his head. He was nastily exhausted by now, after a whole day's work and everything that had happened in the evening, including being hit with two stunning spells in a row. He needed to rest. Badly.

Afterwards, Malfoy used the bucket for its apparent purpose before returning to the cot and settling there, wrapping a blanket around himself.

“Disgusting”, he remarked. “They didn't even give us some water for washing our hands.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We'll write a complaint tomorrow, all right?”

He sat down at the other end of the cot. “What did we learn from our visitors?” he asked lightly.

“They're fools.”

“Apart from that?”

“Spencer's more likely to lose control. It would be easy to coax him into acting rash. He despises us with ardour, me even more than you.”

“Because you provoked him.”

“Oh, Spencer and I have quite a history of mutual contempt. A bit like you and I at Hogwarts, actually, only he never stood a chance, being three years younger. He blamed me for the fact that no one trusted us Slytherins after the war. Me and Pansy.”

“Ah,” Harry said cautiously.

Malfoy shrugged. “He wasn't the only one. But I had to take some drastic measures to keep him from hexing me all the time, so I decided to duel with him. Of course he lost, and rather spectacularly at that.”

Harry groaned. “So he holds a grudge against you, and now he's finally in the position to get back on you.”

“You could put it that way.”

“That's just great”, Harry muttered. “What about his cousin?”

“Higgins is mostly harmless. He's a coward, one of those men who never make a decision without having an exit strategy. He's the weakest link. We might even be able to convince him to let us escape.”

Harry thought about it. “Maybe. But we can't rely on that.”

Malfoy sighed. “No. Do you think your Aurors will find us here?”

Harry grimaced. “I really don't know. I wish I did. There wasn't much time for them to track us down before Grey took our wands and my personal TP device. Without our wands, the magical signature isn't strong enough to procure an echo for the tracking spell to work properly. And even if they know where we are, – they don't know for sure we're still here, and they can't raid private property just like that. Well, they could, in theory, but if Grey refuses to let them in, they'd have to attack the castle and destroy the wards to gain access. They'd need more proof than just a backtracked signature of my magic. After all, even the best tracking spells aren't completely reliable. They can be fooled.”

“They can?” Malfoy asked.

“Oh, bugger,” Harry murmured. He had to be more tired than he'd realised, to slip like that. He sighed. “It's not common knowledge, but, yes, they can be tricked. No, don't ask me how, I won't tell you.”

“So if Grey refuses to let them in, what are they going to do?”

Harry sighed again. “Observe. Investigate. Try to find proof that Grey's involved in the case. Send someone here undercover, if they can dismantle the wards without Grey noticing.”

“That's close to impossible. It's one thing to bring down the wards at a shed that's only been warded with the basic protection spells. It's not as easy to break in an old pureblood estate, warded with the magic and blood of generations of ancestors.”

“I know.”

“Not even house-elves can break through those kinds of wards.”

Harry nodded. “It's worth a try, though. That's the way Ron, Hermione and I escaped from your manor, remember?”

Malfoy looked at him with an odd expression. “I remember,” he said after a while. “But back then, the wards weren't fully functional. We had a bunch of Death Eaters living there; we couldn't include all of them, so my father had to take down some of the wards to permit them access.”

“Oh.” Harry felt the sudden urge to change the topic. “Well. We still need to make a plan to get out of here, regardless of whether the others find us or not.”

Malfoy yawned. “I hope you come up with some brilliant ideas on your part. My brain's slowly turning to mush.”

“And that's different, how?” Harry couldn't restrain himself from teasing.

“Prat.”

“Git.”

“Potter, honestly, we can still make plans tomorrow. It's not as if we can do anything else but wait for them to bring us breakfast, anyway. And right now, I need to sleep.”

Harry had to admit Malfoy was right. They weren't in immediate danger. “Okay. So who gets the cot?”

Malfoy opened his eyes to glare. “Are you joking? I won't sleep on the floor. In case you haven't noticed yet, it's freezing cold down there. Not that it's much better up here, mind you.”

Resignedly, Harry rose from the cot. “We could at least take turns.”

Malfoy stretched out on the bedstead. His eyes were gleaming with mischief. “No.”

For a moment, Harry considered starting a fight. On the other hand, it simply wasn't worth it. Over the years, he had certainly slept under worse conditions. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Malfoy watched him spreading out two of the blankets on the floor. They wouldn't keep off the cold, at least not for long.  
“You know, I wouldn't mind sharing. If you ask nicely.”

Harry shot Malfoy an incredulous glare. “What? No. Fuck off, Malfoy.”

He sat down on the blankets, all but wincing when he realised how hard the bare stone felt under his back.

“Potter, swallow your pride and get up here. You'll catch pneumonia if you insist on being stubborn.”

Harry stared at Malfoy. It was a bad idea for several reasons, only one of them the loss of his dignity. The cot didn't have the width of a normal bed. They would have to lie very close to one another. Touch each other, most likely. It wasn't that he was disgusted by the idea, quite the opposite. Malfoy was far too attractive. Even after the day he'd had, Harry doubted that Malfoy's presence so close to him would leave him unaffected. And if Malfoy realised it, things would be awkward, to say the least. Harry preferred not to provide him with further ammunition to taunt him.

On the other hand, the idea of sleeping on the floor held even less appeal. He sighed.

Malfoy still looked at him. “Listen -”

“Fine,” Harry said at the same time. “Don't complain if neither of us gets a minute of sleep. There's not exactly much space to share.”

He got up, took the blankets, rolling one of them in an attempt to shape a pillow. He threw the other blanket carelessly over Malfoy, including his head.

“Nice, Potter,” Malfoy stated dryly from under the cloth.

Harry had to grin a little. He got on the cot and stretched out next to Malfoy, taking the remaining blanket for himself. He had to edge a little closer. None of them could lie on their back or stomach. They had to lie on their sides, either facing each other or spooning.

_Shit. How could I think this was a good idea, if only for a moment?_

He turned to his side, facing the room. Anything was better than having to look at Malfoy, or, even worse, being the one who had to curl up at Malfoy's back with the guarantee of embarrassing himself.

Malfoy, who had pulled the blanket from his head, waited patiently for him to settle down. When Harry finally stopped fidgeting, closing his eyes, Malfoy threw an arm casually over Harry's waist.

Harry jerked.

Malfoy laughed, a low, soft sound. “Good night, Potter.”

Harry waited for a moment, tense, until it became obvious Malfoy didn't intend to remove his arm.

_Sod it. I won't take the bait. I'm too fucking tired._ He exhaled and relaxed gradually. “Night, Malfoy.”

His exhaustion soon became overwhelming. He didn't care any longer whether Malfoy's arm was there or not, or that their captors would draw the wrong conclusion if they saw them in their current position. He barely noticed Malfoy tightening his hold around his waist or the movement Malfoy made to draw the tiniest bit closer. Malfoy inhaled, once, his nose grazing the skin of Harry's neck. It was the last thing Harry felt before the exhaustion finally took its toll and he dropped off to sleep.

  


**V**

It was dark when he woke. Years of Auror training prevented him from panicking the moment he realised where he was and why. Instead, he took his time to process the information his sensory perception gave him.

He felt rested, but his body ached a little from being in the same position for too long. His back was being warmed in a very pleasant way by Malfoy's chest. There were no more blankets between them; instead, two blankets were covering both of them, one atop of the other. Malfoy was breathing steadily, still sound asleep.

The air was stale, and the smell of urine from the bucket certainly didn't help. He couldn't hear anything else but Malfoy's breath, and he couldn't see anything in the dark. There was the tiniest amount of light falling through the gap under the door, but it was nowhere near enough.

He felt his heart beat faster. More than anything else, he hated being imprisoned, alone in the darkness. It reminded him too much of the cupboard his aunt and uncle had locked him in. He couldn't stand it anymore.

Yesterday evening had been different; Malfoy had been there, and the candle, and it hadn't felt so suffocating, so terrifying. They needed to get out of here. Sooner rather than later. Deciding it was time to get up and make plans, Harry shifted his weight and tried to disentangle himself from Malfoy and the blankets. Malfoy woke during the process. He made a protesting noise and promptly pulled Harry closer, murmuring something unintelligible and nuzzling his neck.

Harry bit his lips to keep himself from laughing. If Malfoy became aware of what he was doing, he'd be mortified. Harry's own amusement, however, was paired with an unexpected, quite inappropriate flare of arousal. _When, exactly, did I start to develop a thing for Malfoy?_

“You know,” he said casually and softly. “For someone who's supposed to be straight, you get awfully cuddly at night.”

He felt Malfoy stir. “Huh?”

Internally, Harry counted down from ten to zero, identifying _five_ as the exact moment Malfoy came to and tensed behind him.

Harry knew his glee was an audible quality. “Morning, Malfoy.”

Silence.

A moment later, Malfoy exhaled, and to Harry's utter surprise, relaxed and stayed exactly where he was. “Potter. Your pathetic sense of humour is _not_ appreciated.”

Harry snorted.

“And I'm certainly not _cuddly_.”

“Says the man who decided to share the bed _and_ the blanket.”

“It was fucking cold!”

“Right, Malfoy.” Harry couldn't suppress a grin.

“Wanker. Next time, I'll let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, shut up. No need to get uptight about it.” Harry yawned and stretched a little, preparing to get up. The movement brought his back in close contact to Malfoy, and he heard Malfoy hiss the same moment Harry felt the prominent bulge against his arse and froze on the spot.

_Oh._

_Oh!_

_Bloody hell._

Malfoy was _hard_.

Harry didn't dare to move. He held his breath as he lay there, motionless, and felt Malfoy's erection swell even more. Harry's mouth went dry, and his own cock responded with a predictable eagerness.

“ _Shit_ ,” he heard Malfoy whisper in a strained voice. “Now that's more than a little awkward, really.”

Harry had to fight the urge to push back against the delicious hardness. It didn't mean anything, he told himself. _Just a physical reaction to close proximity_.

“Nothing to worry about,” he told Malfoy, trying to keep his voice casual. “It's not as if I haven't been in this position before, you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Malfoy replied, trying to imitate Harry's tone. “It's not _your_ virtue I'm worrying about here.”

Harry laughed, albeit a little breathlessly. He hoped Malfoy didn't realise how much the palpable proof of his arousal affected Harry. “Contrary to common belief, queerness isn't contagious. The whole Saviour thing, on the other hand, makes me simply irresistible.”

It made Malfoy laugh against his ear. Harry shivered.

“So modest, Potter.”

For a moment, both of them were silent.

“Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“I think one of us should move now.”

“Oh. Yes. Right.” He waited for Malfoy pull back.

Malfoy sighed. “Potter, I'm lying with my back to the wall. _Move._ ”

Harry couldn't resist. His own arousal and the urge to tease Malfoy melded into a dangerous recklessness. Slowly, he pushed back against Malfoy, his backside rubbing against Malfoy's erection, eliciting another drawn-out hiss.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Malfoy whispered, sounding breathless. “Potter, what are you doing?”

“I'm moving, just like you told me to,” he said innocently, trying to hide his grin. The satisfaction he felt about having the upper hand for once, however, lasted only for a short moment.

“Randy bastard.” Malfoy pulled his knees up against Harry's thighs, put his hands on Harry's shoulder and pushed.  
Harry fell to the floor with an inglorious _oomph_.

“Bollocks,” he muttered. He had to admit he had probably earned it, though.

“I'll charge you with sexual harassment,” Malfoy let him know.

“Really?” Harry asked with an arched eyebrow, a gesture that was wasted in the dark. “Are you going to tell everyone how you suggested sharing the bed and slipped under the blanket at night when I couldn't even object?”

“You're such an arsehole. I really hate you, Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Likewise. Come on, let's get up. We need to figure out how to get out of here.”

 

~~~~~

Getting up meant using the bucket, and, on Harry's part, doing some stretching exercises. After spending the night in a narrow, hard bed – if the cot counted for one at all – he definitely needed some time to work out the knots in his shoulders and back. He desperately wished for a long, hot shower, some clean clothes, and a sumptuous meal.

He wondered if their captors would ever bring them breakfast. The tray and the dishes had disappeared during the night, which confirmed Harry's suspicion that they had been conjured in the first place. It made perfect sense. Any massive object could be used as a weapon. Part of his Auror training had been to fight with any kind of improvised missiles and clubs. A bottle of water made an excellent cosh, and a plate could be used as a flying disc. It was no surprise Grey and his minions didn't want to take any risks.

While Harry was doing his exercises, Malfoy sat on the cot and commented on the noises he was making.

“Honestly, Potter, you sound like a boar.”

“What are you trying to do? Break down the wall with your bare hands?”

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“If you moan like that while you're working out, I don't want to know which kind of noises you make during sex.”

The last one Harry simply couldn't ignore. “Merlin, you really are sex-obsessed, aren't you? Why? Suffering from your own lack of a satisfying love-life?”

“No need to be rude, Potter,” was the dry response.

Malfoy had obviously regained his self-assurance. Harry almost regretted it. Malfoy wasn't easily embarrassed, and Harry had enjoyed his mortification immensely while it lasted. It had been even better because the darkness in their cell had hidden his own state of arousal.

 

~~~~~

A little later, they both decided it was time for some drastic measures, and started banging on the door. They didn't know if anyone would hear them, but it was worth a try. They were hungry and well fed up with staying in their cell.

To Harry's utter surprise, their violent banging and yelling actually elicited a reaction. A few minutes after they had started, they heard an answering bang and an irritated voice told them to step back from the door. The bar was pulled back.

“Open the door,” Spencer's whiny voice commanded. “Slowly.”

Harry did it.

They both blinked against the sudden brightness. The next moment, Spencer cast _Incarcerous_ at Malfoy, binding his wrists and tying them to the wall.

Malfoy's back hit the wall hard, making him groan in protest. He tugged at the robes to no avail. He was forced to stand on tiptoes to sustain his weight and avoid straining his arms. Malfoy's gaze was murderous, but he obviously knew better than to complain. Harry could sense his rage, though.

Spencer, his wand now aimed at Harry, smiled cruelly. “Enjoyed your first-class suite, gentlemen? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. There you are, looking like shit and stinking of piss.”

With a swish of his wand, he banished the bucket and its content. “Marginally better. Now I mainly smell the scent of defeat. Lovely, really.” He laughed. “I've got some work to do. Grey's playing a dangerous game, blackmailing the Ministry. It's a risk I'm not going to take. My personal portkey activates at nine thirty, and I intend to take it. But there are some things left to do before I go, and I think that brave Auror Potter here will gladly assist me. Won't you, Potter? _Imperio_!”

Harry immediately felt the magic take hold of him, his mind falling empty, his brain ceasing to work on its own. Floating in the contentment the spell provided, he awaited Spencer's order.

But it lasted only for a moment. Spencer wasn't powerful enough, his curse nowhere near as compelling as Voldemort's or even Barty Crouch's. The secret part of Harry's mind that threw off the curse easily, taking satisfaction from the knowledge that Spencer had just made a fatal mistake.

“Come with me,” Spencer ordered, and Harry complied, feigning to be under Spencer's control. He tried very hard not to show any signs of excitement. A victim of the Imperius Curse always behaved a bit like a somnambulist, with clouded eyes, slowed reflexes, and a deep-rooted indifference. Following Spencer out of the room, he wished there was a way to let Malfoy know he wasn't affected by the curse, but he couldn't take the risk.

Outside their cell was a narrow hallway, lit by magical torches. It led them straight into a fully equipped potions laboratory. Taking a quick look around, Harry knew for sure they'd found the place where the illegal potions had been brewed. The well-organised shelves were stocked with ingredients, the working surface clean and smooth, the knives sorted by size and material, and the cauldrons polished and neatly lined up on the board above the bench.

Spencer deposited an inconspicuous satchel on the bench and then took a few boxes from a nearby shelf. “Put these ingredients in my bag. Be careful, I don't want them damaged. - That's a good boy, Potter,” he added, sneering when Harry started doing as he was told.

Obviously, Spencer wanted to abscond with as many valuable goods as possible. Harry put strands of unicorn hair and bundles of phoenix feathers into the bag, as well as chippings of centaur hoof, a few bezoars and a few vials of venom procured by different vipers.

In the meantime, Spencer quite rudely broke into an antique, magically locked storage cabinet by blasting the door away. In the process, he also destroyed parts of the content, cursing when he detected he'd obviously broken some expensive potions.

Still with his back to Spencer, Harry heard him murmuring to himself. “Veritaserum? No – Wizard's Oblivion? No. – What the fuck is that? Candied pineapple? - No. - What's this? Oh, yes. Might come in handy. - Oh, that's exactly what I've been looking for. Felix Felicis. Who knew the old fool kept some in reserve? Horace, Horace, I wonder what else you and Octavian kept secret from us.”

_Horace?_ Harry almost dropped his bezoars. _Of course. A competent and experienced brewer. Greedy. No genius. Vain: the hidden 'S' engraved in the seal._ It all made sense now. _Slughorn, you bastard, as soon as I'll get out of here, I'll have your head for this._

Spencer abandoned the cabinet and turned to have a look at Harry. “Very good,” he purred, the Imperius Curse, not yet completely broken, though it wasn't controlling him, providing Harry with even more comfort and a sense of accomplishment. “Now come over here and pack these folders, too.”

It was now or never. As much as Harry wanted to get some more information from Spencer, he knew he had to act before Spencer decided it was time to leave.

Obediently, Harry turned to the desk Spencer had shown him, taking the folders – a short look confirmed that they contained potions recipes in a vaguely familiar handwriting - and pretended to put them into the bag. Spencer nodded and averted his gaze, scanning the laboratory, looking for anything else that was expensive and could be transported without difficulty.

The folders weren't heavy enough. The bag wasn't, either, so Harry decided to abandon the attempt of hitting Spencer with something hard in favour of a more direct approach. He simply jumped at him from behind, snatching the wand from his hand even before they landed on the floor ungracefully.

He wasn't Auror-in-Charge for nothing. While Spencer tried to disentangle himself from him, alternately cursing and trying to strangle him, Harry landed a few well-aimed punches at his jaw, stomach and nose. When Spencer was lying on the floor, bleeding and gasping for air, Harry aimed the wand at his face, revelling for a moment in their reversed positions of power. It wasn't very often that someone got the better of him, and he had to admit it filled him with deep satisfaction to avenge himself for Spencer's prior victory. “ _Stupefy_!”

When Spencer went limp on the floor, his expression of fury dissolving into a blank stare, Harry got up. He had to free Malfoy first. With a jolt of guilt, he thought that he should have attempted to overpower Spencer earlier. He hurried back to their cell. The door was closed, the bar in place. Harry pulled it back and opened the door.

He faced a determined Malfoy, ready to jump, his body radiating tension with every inch, furious and definitely _not_ tied to the wall.

It took a moment for both of them to draw the right conclusion, but then they spoke both at once.

“You countered _Incarcerous_ wandlessly?”

“I'd completely forgotten forgot you could resist the Imperius Curse.”

Both of them laughed, the tension visibly leaving Malfoy's shoulders. “It's the only useful spell I can do without a wand,” he confessed, smirking. “I bet Spencer didn't for a moment expect me to come up with any practical talents at all.”

“How did you learn to do it?” Harry asked, curious.

Malfoy shrugged. The smirk left his face, leaving behind a steely determination. “During the war, it was my crazy aunt's favourite pastime to tie people to the wall if they displeased her. Since my mere presence was usually enough to annoy her to no end, I became quite adept in freeing myself. It probably helped that Greyback liked to sneak up on her victims and make it abominably clear that their helplessness turned him on.”

Harry didn't know what to say. He'd known for years that Malfoy's life during the war had been just as difficult as his own. Hearing Malfoy confirm it in such a distant, ironic manner didn't lessen the gravity of his confession.

Harry tried to find an appropriate reply. “Well, even though Spencer doesn't come close to Lestrange's or Greyback's category of villains, the ability to cast a wandless counter spell does come in handy in situations like these, that's for sure.”

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at him. “So do your abilities of escaping Unforgivables.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Where's Spencer?”

“Let's get out of here, and I'll show you.”

 

~~~~~

Malfoy stared at Spencer menacingly. “What are we going to do with him?”

“Lock him in our cell,” Harry replied. He knelt down and started searching Spencer's pockets. “Keep his wand and get out of here.”

“We won't be able to get through the wards. We need him to get us out.”

“And how will you manage to convince him? He won't help us willingly. And I'm not going to promise him anything in return.”

“Imperius?”

Harry shot Malfoy a dark glance. “I'll pretend I didn't hear that. We're ministry employees; we can't simply go around and throw dark curses at random people.”

“Oh, come on. He did it first.”

“And he'll face the Wizengamot for it, amongst other things.”

“Don't tell me you never used the Imperius Curse on a field mission.”

Harry sighed. “I did it, once. To save my own life. If I hadn't done it, two innocent Muggles and I would have died. There was a formal investigation afterwards, and I had to give my testimony under Veritaserum. We can't simply break the law whenever it appears a good idea. Not when we want people to respect us.”

“That sounds like a speech you've given before.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I have to tell my Junior Aurors once a week why we aren't allowed to do what criminals do.” Harry emptied Spencer's pockets, retrieving a wallet with a handful of galleons, an inconspicuous old shoelace and three vials, two of them filled with a familiar golden liquid, the other with some green crystals Harry didn't recognise.

He put them on the bench along with the shoelace, which was likely the portkey Spencer had mentioned. With Spencer's unfamiliar wand, he cast an awkward _Tempus_. It was quarter past nine.

Malfoy eyed the vials on the table. “What are those?”

“Felix Felicis,” Harry said, mindful of Spencer's earlier rambling. He handed Malfoy the vial with the green crystals, shrugging to indicate he had no idea what it was.

Malfoy let out a quiet whistle. “Death.”

“What do you mean, death?”

“A poison. It's called Death, because that's what it causes, no matter which way it is applied. You can mix it in tea or cake, you can throw it in someone's bath water, you can make a solution from it and vaporise it. It kills the victim as effectively as an Avada Kedavra.”

Harry stared at the little vial, alarmed. “I don't remember seeing it on your list.”

“It wasn't found during the raid. We wondered whether it meant that our brewer was clever enough not to brew it in the first place or if he was too lazy. It's incredibly difficult to brew. Making Wolfsbane is nothing compared to this.” Malfoy shook his head.

“Oh, for that matter, I found out who our secret brewer is. An old acquaintance, you could say.”

Malfoy looked at him with a frown. “Who?”

Harry grimaced. “Horace Slughorn.”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, disgusted. “Figures.”

“My thought exactly.”

 

**VI**

“Are you sure we can't at least slip him a little Veritaserum?” Malfoy asked when they put Spencer down on the cot in their cell.

Harry simply shook his head. “No. It's against the law. We're not allowed to interrogate suspects under Veritaserum unless they give their permission.”

“That's a stupid law, honestly.”

“Tell the Minister. He made it.”

“Yeah, but I know you silently approve. I guess the same rule applies to Legilimency?”

“Yes.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Great. What are we going to do now?”

“We could try to get out of here,” Harry replied. “Only I don't think we'll get away unnoticed. Or we could stay and try to overpower them.”

Malfoy snorted. “So you're going to save the day and arrest them all by yourself? You're good, Potter, but you're not that good.”

“What else do you suggest? I'm ready to bet Grey has disconnected the floo. Do you think you can deal with the wards all by yourself? Blood magic and all? You're good, Malfoy, but you're not that good,” Harry retaliated.

Malfoy glared at him. “Instead, you want to roam the bloody castle, walk right into any trap Grey might provide, hoping you'll get the chance to take him by surprise? What about Higgins and Slughorn? What about the internal wards protecting Grey's own rooms? You're crazy, Potter. Bat-shit crazy.”

“Do you have a better idea, Malfoy?”

They stared at each other defiantly.

“I haven't even got a wand,” Malfoy objected. “If anything happens, I can't help you.”

“Then stay here.”

“No fucking way,” Malfoy said. “On your own, you'll most certainly end up being hexed into oblivion, one way or the other. I'll at least be able to shield your back.”

“Listen, Malfoy, you're not an Auror -”

A sneer showed on Malfoy's face. “So, we're back to that, then? You don't trust me? What was it Bell said? That I'd _'stab you in the back when you least expect it?'_ I thought -”

“Oh, stop it already, you're an idiot,” Harry replied crossly. “Nothing of the sort. Of course I trust you. But it's my fault you're here, and I don't want you to get hurt just because I make another stupid mistake.”

Malfoy's gaze got marginally softer. “You don't need to protect me. I'm an adult, you know.”

Harry groaned. “I didn't want to imply -”

“All right, I got it, Potter. Let's go and have some fun playing tag with Grey. Although we'll be lucky if this doesn't turn out a disaster.”

“Yeah, so – wait, what did you just say?”

“It will turn out a disaster.”

“No,” Harry said, absent-mindedly. “The _lucky_ part.”

He raised his head and met Malfoy's gaze. “We really need some luck, don't we?” He smiled.

It took a moment for Malfoy to catch up with him. “You mean -”

“Yeah, exactly.”

A smirk tugged at Malfoy's lips. “Are you sure that's legal?”

“Pretty sure, yes,” Harry replied. “It's certainly not standard procedure when preparing for a fight, but on the other hand, that's probably due to the fact that Felix Felicis is bloody expensive.”

They locked the cell, heading back to the lab. Harry went straight to the bench to pick up the two vials with golden liquid. He handed one of them to Malfoy and kept the other, slightly smaller one for himself. “Have you ever -”

“No.”

“Well, I have, and it was amazing.”

“I remember. Sixth year. What did you use it for? Getting lucky with the Weaselette? Rumour had it you slipped it to Weasley for Quidditch, but I don't reckon you were that stupid, not even then.”

“Charming, Malfoy. No, in fact, I used it for a completely selfless purpose.”

He thought of the night he'd spent at Hagrid's hut, drinking with him and Slughorn after burying Aragog. It had been a bizarre turn of events, surely, the memory now filling him with amusement rather than regret over missed opportunities.

“And I gave the other half to Ron and Hermione the night the Death Eaters attacked the school. Saved their lives, they told me afterwards.”

“ _That_ night?” Malfoy asked weakly.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, their gazes locked, sharing the memory of battles fought by helpless teenagers, driven by fear and the desperate determination to protect what they held dear.

Harry closed his eyes. It was too intense, the silent exchange much too straining. Maybe, when they finally got out of here, they could share a pint or two at a shady pub, make an attempt to come to terms with the past, but right now, there was no time.

Clearing his throat, Harry tried to concentrate on the matter on hand. “Half a vial should be enough for a start,” he addressed Malfoy, uncorking his vial. “We don't want to get reckless, do we?”

He raised it to his mouth, downing a half of the content in one go. The flavour was slightly different than he remembered. “Funny,” he said. “I don't think it tasted like banana last time.”

Malfoy, on the verge of taking a gulp from his own vial, froze mid-motion. “What?”

“Banana,” Harry repeated, distracted by the weird feeling in his stomach. It felt like a low burning, warmth spreading all through his body. That was different, too.

“Banana? - Shit. Give me the vial, Potter, immediately -”

Slightly worried, Harry handed Malfoy his vial. Malfoy stared at it.

“Oh, no. This is not good.”

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, his throat suddenly dry with fear. In the meantime, the feeling of warmth got stronger, accompanied by a tingling sensation that was pleasant, but held a threat of increasing urgency. “Is it poison?”

Malfoy sniffed at Harry's vial. “Banana, and a hint of almond. Fuck.” He compared the liquid with the content of his own vial. “Slightly darker - Felix always has an unsettled surface – tiny silver stain - Potter, you bloody fool, what have you done?” Malfoy was deathly pale by now.

Panic rose in Harry's chest. The tingling feeling got stronger by the minute. “Tell me”, he demanded, voice rough. “Am I going to die, or what?”

“What? - No. No, Potter, it's not a poison, at least not by definition, and it won't cause any permanent damage, but -” Malfoy's gaze wandered across the room, and it didn't take much to realise he was probably searching for an escape route.

Compelled by a weird instinct, Harry made a step towards him.

Malfoy's eyes widened. “Stay away from me!”

“What the fuck is going on, Malfoy? I swear, if you don't tell me -”

Harry stopped abruptly when the sensation reached his crotch and concentrated in his genitals, spreading warmth and the far too pleasant impression of being touched _just there_. His cock hardened within seconds. He sucked in his breath. “Is it -”

“An aphrodisiac, Potter, and a fucking strong one at that.”

“Shit,” Harry whispered, a wave of arousal surging up inside of him, flooding him. His hands gripped the table so hard his knuckles got white with the exertion. “Is there a counter-spell? Something – anything – bezoar -”

“No,” Malfoy answered. “Sex is the only way to lessen the effect. It's not only a physical stimulant; it also affects your mind. The need becomes overwhelming, until you've got no other choice but to seek relief, regardless the circumstances. Potter, you have to resist. For Merlin's sake, if you can throw off the Imperius Curse, you can also reign in your libido. Listen to me, Potter.”

Instead of clearing Harry's head and helping him to get a grip on himself, Malfoy's words had quite the opposite effect. Harry looked up to see Malfoy, his pale hair and his wide, fearful eyes, his lean, strong body right in front of him.

“Malfoy – oh, fuck -” Harry tried to restrain himself. An all-consuming fire was burning in his groin. He was close to his climax, so incredibly close to the edge already, and it went on and on, moments of torture stretching to eternity. Such a state of arousal wouldn't normally last so long: he would either orgasm, or his erection would slowly wilt, but that simply didn't happen.

He moaned, shaking and trembling. He needed release, _now_ , needed to get off so badly it hurt. He needed... Involuntarily, his hand went to the bulge in his trousers. The first touch through the fabric was bliss, and he moaned again, closing his eyes. His jaw went slack, all the tension concentrating in his cock. He jerked, once, twice, three times, crying out with the intense pleasure, and came.

When he regained consciousness a moment later, the realisation of what had happened hit him with full force.

He'd just come in his pants, after bringing himself off right in front of Malfoy.

And it wasn't over yet: he still felt a low burning, less intense than before and not quite as urgent, but his cock was still half-hard, and he felt the desire coiling deep down in his stomach, ready to emerge again any second. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Shit. Oh, shit.”

His face still flushed with the heat of arousal, now blending with the heat of embarrassment, he slowly lifted his eyes to look at Malfoy. “How long?”

Maybe it only lasted for a few minutes, enough to get off once or twice.

Malfoy shook his head, avoiding his gaze. “Judging from the amount you've already taken, I'd say at least a few hours. It's highly potent. Bloody hell, Potter, one vial of it would suffice to host an orgy with a dozen participants, each of them taking about three of four drops at a time.”

“No,” Harry whispered. “Oh, no.”

“How could you be so stupid not to realise the difference? You even had an object of comparison at hand. Honestly, you're a lost cause; how did you manage to survive as an Auror for more than a week?” Although the words were harsh, Malfoy sounded desperate rather than furious.

“Don't know, really.” Harry tried to laugh. It came out instead as a rasp of air. It wasn't funny at all. The drug held him in its tight grip, not letting go.

He looked at Malfoy, and there it was again: the compelling urge to go to him and take what he desperately needed: another body against his own, lips parting invitingly under his, the wet slide of another tongue in his mouth, and strong hands caressing him while he grinded against narrow hips that would answer his urgent movements with forceful thrusts. He barely realised he was moaning again, a needy and passion-filled sound reverberating in the expansive space of the laboratory. His cock was already back to full hardness. Before he could control himself, he'd made a step towards Malfoy, then another.

“Fight it, Potter! We still need to get out of here. You want to get out of here, don't you?” Malfoy eyed him like a dangerous beast escaped from its cage.

“Yeah,” Harry said, not even knowing which question he answered. “Yeah. Malfoy -”

Another step brought him closer, within arm's reach, and he was able to smell Malfoy's sweat, less appealing than the last time he'd consciously smelled it - the night before, during their stakeout - but intoxicating nonetheless. He could hear his own panting and Malfoy's shallow, nervous intake of breath. Could see the pulse point on Malfoy's throat. He imagined what it would be like to taste him, right there, bite him and lick him and make him respond. His partially subconscious attraction to Malfoy, mixed with the magic of the aphrodisiac, made it impossible to resist the urge to draw closer.

“No,” Malfoy growled. “Potter, stay where you are, don't come any closer -”

The next second, Harry had him pushed against the bench, pressing his hard, hot cock in sticky trousers against Malfoy's pelvis, and Harry nearly whimpered with the delicious friction. His hands went to Malfoy's shoulders on their own volition, entangling with his silky blond hair and tugging his head closer. His mind was caught in a haze of raw need and desire so intense it had taken over completely. A tiny, protesting voice told him he was acting like a lunatic, that he had to restrain himself, or he would deeply regret it otherwise, but it was too weak to fight the overwhelming instinct to find relief.

“Want you,” he whispered against Malfoy's lips. “Need you.”

Malfoy tried to get away from him, but Harry was having none of it, pressing closer instead. Malfoy's attempt of escaping was only half-hearted. It was probably due to the fact that he didn't want the situation to escalate into a physical fight that was predetermined to cause injuries, a chance they couldn't hazard, but Harry's lust-driven brain took it for acquiescence. He bit down on Malfoy's lower lip, causing him to curse with the pain, using the chance to force his mouth open with lips and tongue before Malfoy could jerk his head away.

Harry's hands kept Malfoy in place while he kissed him like a starving man, like he was the food he'd been offered after days of living on water alone, the oxygen he needed to survive. And also the tinder fuelling the fire inside of him. He gasped in Malfoy's open mouth, then kissed him again, devouring him. Biting and licking, sucking, again and again, trying to breathe at the same time, sharing Malfoy's breath.

His body was on fire.

Even when Malfoy's hands were on his chest, pushing him away, he kept his desperate hold on him, bucking his hips wildly, growling furiously when the contact of hips against hips, mouth against mouth was broken. There was the taste of blood in his mouth, and he didn't know whether it was Malfoy's or if he had bitten himself in frustration.

This time, he knew intuitively, touching himself wouldn't be enough; it would leave him dissatisfied and hollow. He tried to get closer again, lunging at Malfoy only to be stopped by a wand that was suddenly pressed against his sternum.

“Stop right now, Potter, or I will hex your balls off, I swear.”

The sudden awareness of imminent danger helped Harry regain enough of his willpower to stop dead. The veil blurring his vision lifted enough he could meet Malfoy's gaze. He expected to see contempt and icy rage.

What he saw instead made him gasp.

Malfoy looked completely out of it, his pupil dilated, darkening his gaze. His lips were swollen and bleeding from a cut Harry had made, his cheeks were flushed pink and he was trembling, although he tried to hide it. His hair was gloriously tousled, surrounding his head like a halo. His breath went fast and shallow, the pace quickening when Harry's gaze slid downwards, searching – and finding – the unmistakable proof of his arousal.

Harry's jaw dropped with a silent _Oh_ of wonder.

When his eyes found Malfoy's again, Malfoy fidgeted, opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

They stood there, facing each other for one or two seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, until something shifted between them, and Harry, no longer afraid of the wand in Malfoy's hand, dove in. The moment of clarity was gone, forgotten in the renewed heat in his belly. The animalistic part of him revelled in his victory.

Malfoy backed off, trying to stall the inevitable. The counter stopped his retreat, and Harry approached him slowly, like a predator. “Malfoy,” he purred. “Come here.”

Malfoy didn't respond, and he didn't oblige, but he had stopped moving. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, nervously.  
Harry groaned. When he finally reached Malfoy, he felt the warmth of his body mirror the heat he felt inside.

The wand clattered to the floor, unnoticed.

Breath intermingling. Shaky hands on his biceps, flushed cheeks and blazing eyes, the grey of the iris a thin circle of molten silver that burned into Harry's. eyes. Malfoy's eyes closed in surrender the moment their lips met, and Malfoy made a tiny, tortured sound.

The kiss was wet, slick, with too much saliva, but it was all right because he wanted to consume Malfoy, breathe him in, drink him and eat him alive. The taste was sour and sweet at the same time, his smell stale and fresh and everything in between.

The moment their cocks touched, finally, through too many layers of fabric, Malfoy moaned, low, deep in his throat, and Harry almost came on the spot.

Between frantic kisses, Harry's hands stroked Malfoy's shoulders for a moment, but soon became impatient and slid lower, down to the small of his back. To finally, finally, reach Malfoy's arse, two perfectly shaped buttocks he needed to grip, making Malfoy hiss with surprise and pulling him forward until the pressure to his groin became too much to be pleasant. One hand went to Malfoy's fly, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down. He didn't even know what he was doing, where this would go; he acted on instinct alone.

Malfoy's hands were resting on Harry's belt, making no effort to move any further, and Harry cursed with growing frustration. “Come on, Malfoy, fuck, touch me, come on, you bloody tease -”

Malfoy bit him in reply, and Harry bucked against him, so close to the edge already but knowing he needed more. Releasing Malfoy to get rid of his own restraining trousers was torture, but he had to do it, punishing Malfoy for his reluctance with a pinch at his left nipple, making him jerk.

Then his trousers and damp pants were gone, and their cocks touched with a maddening intensity. Malfoy threw his head back, closing his eyes and baring his throat, and Harry took advantage and licked his Adam's apple and nipped at his neck, adorning it with small bites.

Harry's focus, however, returned to his neglected, rock-hard cock a moment later. The friction was great, but it wasn't enough, not by far. He took both their pricks in his hand and began stroking them. Fast, rough jerks. Malfoy's hands gripped his shoulders tightly, forming bruises, and Harry didn't care.

Usually, he liked to take his time, liked to make the arousal build higher and higher, but under the influence of the aphrodisiac, he was too far gone to care. He stared down at their cocks, his own a dark purple, Malfoy's a shade lighter but of an equal size, a smooth hardness against his palm, the glans glistening with precome just like his own. His finger grazed the tip, collecting the pearly liquid and rubbing it into their flesh where it mixed with sweat and the remnants of his earlier orgasm. The thought that he was marking Malfoy that way was unbearably erotic.

Malfoy's cock was gorgeous, and Harry wanted desperately to go down on his knees and taste him, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, not now, maybe never. Instead, he looked up, staring at Malfoy.

“Look at me,” Harry demanded, barely recognising his own voice.

The moment Malfoy obliged, Harry came, hard, biting down at Malfoy's neck and stifling his groan while his orgasm seemed to go on forever.

The force of his climax took all his strength out of his legs, bringing him down in his knees in front of Malfoy. His shoulders slouched, and his hands palmed his face while he tried to regain his sanity. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Malfoy staring at him with an expression of pure hunger and raw need. It actually lifted the fog around his brain.

“Shit.” Harry edged closer, moving awkwardly on his knees, until his face was level with Malfoy's cock. His hands came up to hold Malfoy's hips, he took the head into his mouth without hesitation, swirling his tongue around it to finally get a proper taste.

It tasted like sex, and it was heaven. He licked Malfoy's cock clean with long, broad stripes of his tongue, and the noises Malfoy made told him everything he needed to know: that Malfoy had almost lost it, that he was close to the edge, and if Harry teased him any longer, he was going to go mad.

As much as he wanted to prolong it, the sensation of the hard flesh filling his mouth so incredibly satisfying that he couldn't imagine to stop doing this ever, as if every minute he spent not sucking Malfoy's cock was waste of time, he knew he couldn't. He stopped licking and took Malfoy deep into his mouth, hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Harry's hands held Malfoy in place when he promptly started bucking his hips, thrusting into Harry's mouth. Malfoy's hands had found their way into Harry's hair, clutching the strands tightly.

Harry let Malfoy do as he liked, at least as far as it possible without starting to gag, his nails digging in the sensitive skin at Malfoy's hipbones whenever he threatened to thrust too far, a subconscious action. His awareness was focused on the marvellous feeling of Malfoy's cock sliding in and out of his mouth, thick and wet with his saliva. The low burning inside him threatened to burst into flames once more. Fortunately, it didn't take long for Malfoy to still with a telltale sigh. Shuddering once, he flooded Harry's mouth with come. Harry swallowed and kept his mouth in place, doing nothing to stimulate Malfoy's cock, but not wanting to give up the feeling just yet.

“Potter.”

Harry looked up, and Malfoy's dick slipped from his mouth. They stared at each other, Malfoy's expression unreadable.

“We've got a castle to conquer.”

Not trusting his own voice, Harry nodded once, getting to his feet.

Malfoy held out his hand to help him without looking at him. “Come on.”

He gripped the proffered hand and let Malfoy pull him to his feet. In uncomfortable silence, they got dressed again, avoiding looking at each other. Harry's cock still refused to soften. He sighed. If they didn't get out of here soon, he would want to start all over again.

He better avoided looking at Malfoy, too. Risking a sideways glance, he saw Malfoy wet his red, kiss-swollen lips, and wanted to pull him close for another round of – well, whatever Malfoy agreed to, say, fucking on the bench, with Malfoy's legs around his waist and Harry's cock balls-deep inside him. Harry groaned, shaking his head.

“Merlin, Potter, you can't be serious,” Malfoy said flatly, his eyes resting on the bulge in Harry's trousers. “Even Luscious Lust has its limits, or so I've been told.”

“ _'Luscious Lust'_?” Harry asked, ignoring the implication.

“Ridiculous name, isn't it?”

“Utterly,” Harry muttered darkly.

Malfoy picked up Spencer's wand and held it out for Harry to take.

After a short moment of considering his options, Harry shook his head. “No. You keep it.”

“Why? Twenty minutes ago, you were quite eager to storm off and confront Grey.”

“That was before I accidentally took that fucking potion.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, his expression suddenly full of glee. “What a terrible pun, Potter. A _fucking potion_. Albeit accurate, I admit. Who knew you had such a wicked sense of humour.”

“Shut up,” Harry said. He knew his cheeks were a flaming red. “It's not funny.”

“No, I guess not. I'm a Slytherin though, so I truly appreciate the unintended irony. But what has the _fucking potion_ to do with you not being able to hold a – uh – wand anymore?”

Although Harry was glad that the earlier awkwardness was slowly subsiding, Malfoy's efforts of lifting the mood started to get unnerving. “Because I'm distracted,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can't look for traps and wards if I feel the constant urge to ogle your arse.”

“As if that's a new development. You heard Snape. He caught you checking me out before you ever heard of Luscious Lust. Whoever invented that name ought to be executed on the spot. It's complete nonsense.”

_Yeah, but at least I didn't imagine tearing your clothes and bending you over the nearest available surface to fuck your brains out until you scream,_ Harry thought.

It was only when he heard Malfoy gasp that he realised he had actually said it aloud.

“Potter, that was unnecessarily graphic,” Malfoy said after a short, stunned silence.

“Whatever. I won't take the wand for another reason. There's still the vial of Felix Felicis, and I don't want to risk it interfering with the aphrodisiac.”

“Oh. I hadn't thought of _that_ ,” Malfoy admitted. “That could certainly lead to... interesting complications.”

“I really don't want to find out.”

“Neither do I. All right. I'll go ahead. Try not to get too distracted by my lovely backside.”

Malfoy uncorked the vial with Felix Felicis. “Let's hope it works the way you want it to.” He took a small amount, closed the vessel and stowed it away carefully.

Then he froze on the spot, a deep frown on his face.

“What?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“Wow.” Suddenly Malfoy laughed, twirling the wand in his hand. “I feel great. I think we should leave, Potter. This dungeon seriously lacks entertainment.”

With that ominous statement, Malfoy turned and went to the locked door that led out of the lab.

  


**VII**

They had reached the hallway and stood in front of a spiral staircase.

Watching Malfoy act under the influence of Felix Felicis was decidedly weird. There was a wicked gleam in his eye, and he appeared frantic, like some kind of lunatic genius. Harry wondered if Luna Lovegood had been breast-fed with Felix Felicis. Malfoy had the same poise of mind, a self-confidence that was simply irritating, giving the circumstances.

He didn't bother to give Harry any explanations, either.

He'd simply told him they wouldn't go upstairs using the staircase. “No, that's not a good idea. I think I'll levitate you up instead.”

And before Harry was able to protest, Malfoy cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ at him and manoeuvred him through the air as if he was a heap of dirty laundry. His wand steadily directed Harry's upwards journey, and Malfoy followed him upstairs with unhurried steps.

Moments later, Harry was dumped onto the floor. His hands clenched in the rug that was covering the tessellated, black and white marble floor.

“And why, pray tell, did you have to levitate me when it was perfectly safe to take the stairs?” he hissed when Malfoy had closed up to him.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You would have taken the wrong treads.”

“You could simply have told me -”

“No. I only knew which treads to avoid when I was just about to step on them.”

“I could have walked behind you -”

“You would have tripped, staring at my arse. Now calm down. We don't want anyone to hear us, do we?”

“Where are we going?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I think it would be a good idea to walk along the corridor.”

“What for?”

“I don't know.”

Cursing inwardly, Harry got up from the floor. A familiar wave of heat flooded his belly. “Oh, no,” he whispered, hoping he could control himself this time.

Malfoy was already ahead of him. Without any apparent attempt of secrecy, he strolled through the house, holding Spencer's wand loosely in his hand.

Harry hastened to follow him. He tried to take deep breaths and concentrate on their task rather than the graceful, languid way Malfoy moved. _This is so fucked up._

“Potter!” Malfoy called. He had stopped in front of a wooden door and eyed the door handle, waiting for Harry to catch up with him.

“What do you want?” Harry growled.

Malfoy looked at him, one eyebrow arched. “Open the door, please.”

“Why me?”

“Just do it.”

Pulling a face, Harry opened the door.

It was a broom closet. Harry scrunched up his nose. “Great. What do we do now?”

Malfoy was behind him, coming closer until his breath tickled Harry's hair. Harry fought the urge to turn around and -

_No_ , he chastised himself. _Just no._

“I think it might be a good idea if we got a broom,” Malfoy explained without explaining anything at all.

“A broom. As in broom for sweeping the floor? Do you want to help Grey clean the house? Those are not for flying, Malfoy, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Potter, stop complaining and take a broom.”

Harry stepped into the room, stumbled over an abandoned dustpan and toppled to the floor after forcefully colliding with a shelf. A box filled with various bottles of cleaning agents fell down and hit him hard on the head. One bottle obviously hadn't been sealed and its contents promptly stained Harry's clothes with pink, glittering powder. Harry recognised it as some kind of floor polishing product. He was almost sure he'd seen Molly Weasley use it before.

Malfoy eyed him with interest. “Pink, Potter? How very gay.”

Harry was furious. He could feel the deep scowl form on his face.

Malfoy shrugged, not bothering to hide his smirk. “Taking Felix Felicis means it's _my_ luck, Potter, not necessarily _yours_ ,” he pointed out.

“Fuck you.”

“Says the man powdered in pink.” Once again, Malfoy held out his hand.

Harry knew it was unprofessional. He knew they were in a dangerous situation, where they needed to maintain control and behave like well-trained ministry employees who earned their salaries.

He took Malfoy's hand, pulled, and tripped him with a well-aimed kick to the back of his knees.  
Malfoy fell down on top of him, taking Harry's breath away for more than one reason.

Malfoy cursed, losing his composure, which filled Harry with satisfaction. “You arsehole! What was that for?”

Before Harry could come up with a witty reply, their close proximity and Malfoy's weight on top of him triggered the resurgence of the magic in his blood. His hips came up to thrust against Malfoy's groin, one arm closing around Malfoy's waist, the other trailing in his hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

It was completely different this time.

It was playful, languorous and intimate, and Malfoy responded eagerly, melting into him. “Mmm. Potter. You kiss like you mean it.”

“I do,” Harry whispered, his hands sliding under Malfoy's shirt and caressing the bare, warm skin.

“It's just the potion -”

“I don't care.”

He'd half expected it to turn the same kind of primal need as before, but he was wrong. It was slow and sensual, like a dance where both partners were more interested in making it last than just striding towards their own satisfaction.

All rational thought had left Harry's mind, not that there had been much left to begin with. Somewhere along the way, he'd flipped them over so that Malfoy, now also covered with powder, was writhing beneath him, all his restraint gone.

Harry wanted to fuck him, and looking at Malfoy's flushed face, he realised Malfoy would probably let him.

A tiny part of his brain protested, but it fell silent quickly. Harry's hands had already opened Malfoy's fly and were busy yanking his trousers down. It was unfortunate he had to let go of Malfoy's and, even worse, make him release his hold to Harry's arse, where his hands had attached themselves so naturally during the last few minutes of frotting that they now seemed to be a permanent fixture. On the other hand, it gave Malfoy the chance to molest his nipples, which he did with quite a lot of enthusiasm. It almost made Harry forget about his goal of getting Malfoy naked _now._

They shared another deep, moist kiss, their tongues entangling as if they intended to join forever. Harry nearly missed the sudden _pop_. Nearly.

When he tore his gaze away from Malfoy, he spotted a tiny house-elf standing in front of him, wearing a yellow terry towel covered with orange, blue and white kittens. The bottom half was soaking-wet and stained with dark red liquid that smelled sour like wine and held a strong note of elder.

The odd sight helped him reign in his libido fairly quickly and far more effectively than a bucket of ice-cold water. Aphrodisiac or no aphrodisiac, he was not ready to engage in sexual activities of any kind in presence of a house-elf.

“Er – hello,” he said, raising himself onto his hands and knees, not taking his eyes of the confused elf. “It's nice to meet you.”

Malfoy, beneath him on the floor, made, a sound somewhere between a snort and laughter.

The house-elf stared at them with obvious distress, its ears drooping. It was a young female elf. He imagined the picture they made: shirtless, their trousers partly undone, completely covered in pink dusty glitter. Harry was on the verge of collapsing with inappropriate laughter. Their situation could hardly become more bizarre.

“Oh, no!” the house-elf squeaked with horror. “Oh, no, no, no.”

Malfoy pushed against Harry's chest. “Get off of me, you moron.”

Harry obliged, still staring at the clearly miserable elf. Malfoy sat up, looking at her with what was apparently meant to be a comforting smile. Harry thought he merely looked silly, even more so because Malfoy's face was smeared with pink powder.

“Now, now, my dear no need to worry,” Malfoy cooed. “That's a good little elf.”

“Who is you?” she inquired. “Why is you here? You is not to be here.”

“We're guests,” Malfoy explained while pulling up his pants and fastening his trousers.

The elf shook her head. “That cannot be true. Master would have told Bundle if there was more guests, yes he would.”

“Oh, I think he intended to tell you, but he forgot,” Malfoy said, unconcerned.

“What, oh, what is Bundle to do now?” Bundle stared at them, eyes wide and fearful. “Bundle cannot ask Master. Master's in his rooms, and Bundle is not to disturb him. And Bundle needs to clean up the floor in the library, and Bundle needs to tell Master that there are intruders in the castle, but Master has forbidden Bundle to enter his rooms, and Bundle needs to punish herself because she is a bad house-elf.”

“Bundle doesn't need to punish herself,” Malfoy said in a stern tone. “Bundle hasn't done anything wrong.”

“Bundle needs to clean up the floor, and Bundle needs to go and tell Master,” Bundle insisted.

“Look, Bundle, maybe we could help you,” Malfoy suggested, rising to his feet. He had difficulties to keep his balance. Everywhere the pink powder had diffused, the rough stone floor had turned into an extremely slippery surface, smooth and hard like ice.

“Bundle is a good elf, but she is too young to take care of everything all by herself. Master cannot expect Bundle to know everything, and Bundle can't be everywhere at once.”

To Harry's astonishment, the adaptation of the house-elves mode of speaking seemed to calm Bundle. She looked at Malfoy hopefully. “Yes?” she said questioningly.

“Bundle can return to the library to ask Mr Slughorn whether she should tell Master about the visitors. That way, she can also clean the floor at once.”

Bundles eyes lightened up. “Bundle thinks this is a good idea. Bundle will go and ask Mr Slughorn.”

“You should take us with you, Bundle,” Malfoy said before the tiny elf could _pop_ away. “Mr Slughorn is an old friend of ours. We will distract him, so that he won't be angry anymore that Bundle has spilled his wine. Mr Slughorn likes his elder wine a lot, doesn't he?”Malfoy chuckled.

Bundle gulped and nodded. “Bundle is always dropping things and breaking them. Master says Bundle is of no use at all. And Mr Slughorn was very angry at Bundle,” she confessed.

She seemed to consider her options.

“Take the broom, Potter,” Malfoy whispered and picked up his shirt while the elf was still standing there, looking thoughtful and a little lost.

Harry rolled his eyes, got up, and took his own shirt from the floor. He chose a broom with a solid handle. Maybe he could use is as a weapon.

“Bundle will take the intruders to Mr Slughorn,” the elf finally announced, still sounding worried. “Sirs must hold on to Bundle now.”

“All right, Potter,” Malfoy whispered, taking Harry's hand. “Time to reacquaint us with good old Horace.”

“You'd better be prepared,” Harry replied. “He's quite nasty when duelling.”

“He's a Slytherin, I wouldn't expect any less.”

Malfoy all by himself was bad enough, but Malfoy drugged with Felix Felicis was a whole new dimension of infuriating.

 

~~~~~

The library was a windowless room lit by magical chandeliers, and it was much bigger than Harry had expected. When they appeared on a thick plush carpet, he tried to take in the surroundings, but his gaze was immediately drawn to a huge statue in the centre of the room.

It was a giant serpent, coiled around a column that went from the floor to the ceiling. The serpent was tricoloured grey, charcoal and slate and steel, the pattern of its skin flawless and mesmerising. The column was black, adorned with silver tendrils of ivy. It was a rather beautiful piece of statuary. The serpent actually seemed to look at him.

Once he'd met its gaze, Harry was transfixed. He blinked and tried to avert his eyes, but he wasn't able to look away.

The serpent was enchanted, he realised belatedly, designed to trap anyone who didn't know about it and took precautions not to look at it directly. Whoever had created it had probably thought of a basilisk. A basilisk could both kill and petrify with its gaze. This serpent, too, paralysed its victim.

With growing desperation, Harry fought to break the spell.

He heard strange noises behind his back: someone yelled something, a spell or an incantation, and another voice interrupted with “ _Protego_.” He wasn't able to discern whether it was Malfoy or Slughorn or someone else. There was a horrified squeal whose source was obviously Bundle, but the rest was hard to tell. His field of vision had narrowed down to the serpent's gaze, and there was a strange swooshing sound in his ears, like the static of a Muggle radio.

Harry tried to fight the enchantment. It was the third time he'd been exposed to mind-controlling magic this day, and he was really sick of it by now. A sudden realisation came to his mind: he was still influenced by the aphrodisiac. Maybe it could help him counter the serpent's magic.

For the first time since he'd taken the disastrous potion, he concentrated on his physical state, finding himself still half-hard. It didn't take much to turn the glowing heat into a wildfire. He only had to think of Malfoy, and what he wanted to do to him, and what he had already done to him, and what he had _almost_ done to him in the broom closet. Within a heartbeat or two, the desire became so much stronger that it overrode anything else: his anger, his determination, his rational state of mind, which had been in a poor condition before and now got completely lost in instinct.

It was too much for the serpent. Harry felt the exact moment his lust broke the invisible chains that held him in place. In his mind, he heard something like an angry hiss.

Harry whirled around, searching for Malfoy. He had to... needed to...

Instead, he came face to face with a surprised, sly-looking Horace Slughorn, wand in hand.

Harry reacted without thinking twice. He reached out and batted him with the broom handle. It collided with Slughorn's skull with a hard crack. Slughorn's eyes glazed over and he dropped to the ground, a wobbly mass of fat and bones looking like a meat ball in a ridiculous ermine coat.

It would have been the logical thing to grab his wand. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't able to think at all, let alone think logically. Breaking the serpent's gaze had come with a price. The aphrodisiac held him in its grip, and all he wanted was get to Malfoy and pick up where they'd left off. Broom still in hand, he searched for Malfoy. He was nowhere to be seen. Bundle was lying on the floor next to Slughorn, motionless. “Malfoy?”

Harry almost overlooked the stunning hex aimed at him from the gallery that led around the room, halfway between the floor and the ceiling. From the corner of his eyes, he registered the red beam and dodged by instinct, ducking behind the statue and cursing loudly.

The next second, he heard a surprised yell, saw a flicker of red light and heard the distinct thump of a lifeless body tumbling to the ground.

He lay on the floor, burning from inside, knowing he was exposed and helpless and unable to do anything against it. His rock-hard cock was positively scorching. He got up, pushing his back against the cold stone of the column and the snake's spiralling coils. If only he could think clearly for a moment.

He heard steady steps approaching him from the direction where the stunning spell had come from. He tensed, gasping.

“Potter?” a tentative, familiar voice asked, and Malfoy stepped into view.

Harry pounced.

 

~~~~~

An _Incarcerous_ later, Harry was bound to the column in the same position Spencer had used to tie Malfoy up in their cell. A little more comfortable, since it wasn't Malfoy's intention to hurt him. It didn't change that it was pure torture, though. He fought against the ropes. His hips bucked against empty space, searching for friction, anything to end the agony and allow him to get off. If anything solid had been there, he would have rutted against it like an animal in heat, which was exactly what the aphrodisiac had reduced him to.

Malfoy stood in front of him, out of reach, and tried to calm him down with words, spells, and even a conjured bucket of  
cold water.

“Potter, you're out of your mind,” he said.

Harry barely heard him. The sound of his voice, however, made his hips buck even harder.

“ _Harry_. Listen to me. I can't release you now, not the way you are. And I can't help you to get off again, either, because you'd probably black out after that, and if I woke you up afterwards, the whole bloody thing would start again. You're too single-minded right now. There's only one thing that has a chance of getting through to you, and it's Felix Felicis. There's a chance that it might react with the aphrodisiac and knock you out for a while, but I have to take the risk. It won't cause any permanent damage, and it might suppress the effect of Luscious Lust long enough to get us out of here.

“There's a part deep down in your mind, buried beneath all the testosterone and adrenaline and whatnot, that knows that you need to have Grey arrested, need to get out of here and back to the Ministry, and Felix will help you to achieve that. You're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake, Saviour of the Wizarding World, if you could stop humping the dry air long enough to remember that fact. You're a professional. You're an Auror; bloody well act like one. Now, when I release you in a minute, you won't jump me like a bitch in heat. Instead, you'll get a fucking wand and track down Grey.”

Through the haze and the heat and the desperation, Harry saw Malfoy uncork the vial of Felix Felicis and draw closer. _He's coming closer_.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and he stopped. “This won't work. You'd probably spill it rather than drink it.”

For a moment, he stared at Harry, contemplating, and then, with a wink, he emptied the vial of in his own mouth.

The next second, his mouth was on Harry's, and when Harry parted his lips to kiss him like a mindless puppet, Malfoy poured the potion into his mouth, and Harry lapped it all up, Felix Felicis and Malfoy and spit and desire and then some.

Malfoy broke the kiss and Harry whimpered, magic already pervading him. Malfoy was so close to him now, almost where  
Harry needed him to be, close and yet not close enough, and all Harry could do was beg with a broken, silent voice. “Please. Let me come. Oh, please, Draco.”

Malfoy's eyes, dark, wide and vulnerable, bored into his own and he nodded, once. Suddenly his hand was on Harry's cock, and he squeezed and rubbed, and that was all it took. Harry came with a muffled cry, spilling his desire in Malfoy's mouth with the same intensity he spilled his seed.

He didn't black out, but it was a close call.

The moment Malfoy released him, Harry slid to the floor, a boneless, mushy heap. Then Felix Felicis took effect, and everything changed yet again.

 

**VIII**

“How did you manage to stun him?” Harry asked. They had climbed up the stairs to the gallery and were crouching beside Higgins.

“Stealth and skill, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “And good luck.”

“Good luck, that's closer to the point,” Harry murmured. He still had problems concentrating. Dealing with two magical substances in his blood wasn't easy; the excess of magic made him feel slightly dizzy and light-headed. The aphrodisiac still made him horny as hell, and Felix Felicis didn't exactly counter its effects, but provided him with many useful ideas how to convince Malfoy of the imperative necessity to have sex. Worst, whenever he managed to suppress the urge to fuck Malfoy senseless - or, after two orgasms chafing his cock with the rough fabric of his jeans, getting fucked senseless himself – mortification set in.

“When the house-elf brought us here, I was able to stun Slughorn, but I hadn't realised Higgins was there, too. He almost got me with a bone-breaking curse. I had to take cover and managed to hide between the shelves. Then I suddenly thought it would be a good idea to sneak up on him. Better than duelling from an inferior position, I reckon, but quite risky nevertheless.

“I cast a Disillusionment charm on myself and climbed up the stairs at the other end of the room. Everything went smoothly, until the walrus recovered and almost hit me in the back with a Stunning Spell. I decided to pretend he'd succeeded and the spell had knocked me out. Thought it might give me a chance to overpower Higgins physically. Salazar knows why, since I'm certainly no expert in hand-to-hand combat. Next thing I heard was Slughorn falling down after you hit him. Higgins had just started rummaging through my pockets, but he stopped and bolted to the rescue. I stunned him. End of the story.”

“How did you manage to avoid looking at the statue?”

“Because I know this kind of magic. We've got a Gargoyle in our hallway that works similarly. How did you break the spell?”

“Er – I – that is -” Harry fidgeted.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. With a significant glance at Harry's still much too tight trousers, he snorted. “That certainly  
explains your enthusiastic reaction to my appearance.”

With great effort, Harry managed to roll his eyes instead of blushing.

 

~~~~~

They locked Slughorn and Higgins in the same cell as Spencer. All of them were still stunned.

With surprising gentleness, Malfoy deposited the unconscious house-elf on an armchair in the library. Poor Bundle had obviously blacked out the moment Malfoy started throwing spells.

There was only Grey left to deal with, but that was easier said than done. His own quarters were, without a doubt, heavily warded, and they had to get in unnoticed so that there was an opportunity for him to take a portkey or apparate out of the castle. Not even Felix Felicis provided them with a spontaneous idea how to accomplish that.

“Breaking in his personal quarters without him noticing is impossible,” Malfoy mused.

Harry sighed. “We can't wait. He could decide to call for Bundle any time, or, even worse, leave his rooms to conference with his minions.”

“We could try to catch him the moment he leaves his rooms.”

“Assuming he decides to walk. The castle is huge; it's more likely he'll apparate.”

“So if we can't get in, and we can't wait...”

“... we have to lure him out.”

They looked at each other, once more standing in the laboratory. Malfoy leaned against the bench. Harry, whose knees were still a little weak, sat on the counter.

“Wards,” they said at the same time. Harry grinned. Malfoy snorted.

“He gets alerted any time someone tries to break in. Or tries to get out. Or tries to activate the floo connection.”

“He'd call for Bundle first, and when she wouldn't appear, he'd become suspicious.”

“What if he has reason to believe she been disabled? She said she always drops things and such. What if she... let's say, sets the kitchen on fire?”

“He'd have no choice but to apparate there himself. At least that's what I would do if it were my own house. You can't trust anybody else with your possessions. All the more when there's hardly anything left of them.”

“What are we waiting for? Let's go.”

 

~~~~~

Felix Felicis led them directly to the kitchen, a large room with a back door to the herb garden. At the nearest logical Aapparation spot - under the premise that there was a fire in the kitchen and it was too dangerous to apparate there – Malfoy would lie in wait under a Disillusionment charm, while Harry hid in the kitchen behind the door.

To make sure Bundle wouldn't be able to follow her master's call, they had bound the tiny elf with improvised ropes made from a blanket. They had to take real, not conjured, material, to tie her to the chair. It was the only way to make sure her magic wouldn't let her get away.

In the end, everything happened fairly quickly.

With a well-aimed _Incendio_ and not just a little satisfaction, Harry set the kitchen counter on fire. After that, it took about a minute for Grey to apparate exactly where they had assumed he would. They hadn't expected him to be accompanied by his kneazle, though.

From his position behind the door, Harry could hear a _crack_ , followed by the sound of brisk steps, a furious mewl, and a dangerous, drawn-out hiss.

The moment he got into action and ran to the door, he heard Grey cast “ _Crucio_!” with a cruel snarl that left no insecurities about whether he meant it or not. He wouldn't have needed Malfoy's agonised screams to prove it.

Harry burst through the door, casting a nonverbal stunning spell and missing his target by an inch or two. Grey turned around, facing him, his face contorted with fury while Malfoy, released from the spell, lay on the floor trembling.

Harry knew he had only this one choice. “ _Stupefy_!”

“ _Serpensortia_!”

Grey tried to dodge the stunning spell. It grazed his shoulder, but failed to hit him squarely and knock him unconscious as it should have.

Harry had to deal with the conjured snake. “ _Finite Incantatem_!”

Instead of dissolving into nothing, the snake kept slithering towards Harry.

Grey laughed, the sound reverberating in the hallway. “ _Levicorpus!_ ”

Pure luck helped Harry escape the spell, an instinctive movement he'd never have made if Felix Felicis hadn't accelerated his reflexes. The snake had crawled up to him and tried to bite him. Harry jumped aside, casting another stunning spell at Grey.

“ _Protego_ ,” Grey's cold voice retorted, deflecting it easily.

Grey's kneazle pounced and snatched the wand from Malfoy's hand, its claws leaving long, bloody scratches on his forearm.

Grey sent a stinging hex at Harry next, almost causing him to drop his wand. He was playing with them, Harry realised with growing anger.

The snake almost caught him with its next attack. He had to get rid of it, somehow. “ _Lagus_ ”

Confronted with a furious snake, the conjured rabbit made a terrified jump. The snake eagerly abandoned its prior goal of biting Harry to keep snatching at the poor rabbit instead.

Grey sneered and cast a nonverbal _Expelliarmus_.

Slughorn's wand was snatched from Harry's grip. It clattered to the floor, unnoticed, while Grey aimed his own wand at Harry with deliberation.

Malfoy whipped something out of his pocket and threw it at Grey. Grey shrank back, the glittery pink powder sliding to the floor all around him.

In the blink of an eye, the powder took effect and the surface changed from rough to even and smooth, too smooth to walk on it properly. Grey didn't realise what happened. He aimed his wand at Malfoy, without doubt planning to cast another nasty curse. Shifting his weight, he slipped, trying desperately to keep his balance and failing. He tumbled to the floor with an angry yell.

Harry went for Slughorn's wand, carefully avoiding any part of the floor that had been touched by the polishing powder.

Malfoy got to his feet and, with pure malice on his face, stepped on the wrist of Grey's wand-arm, the bones breaking with a sickening noise. The next kick was aimed at Grey's stomach, making him scream with pain. He took Grey's wand and shot a casual Stunning spell at him before aiming it at the hissing kneazle that was cowering at the opposite end of the corridor. The kneazle wasn't stupid. It ran, escaped Malfoy's stinging hex and darted around the corner.

Both out of breath and with foreign wands in hand, Harry and Malfoy faced each other.

“Are you okay?”Harry finally asked.

Malfoy snorted. “I'm perfectly fine.” He kicked Grey's unmoving form again with disdain. “Bastard. You'll go to Azkaban, and for once, I'll enjoy testifying at the Wizengamot to make sure you do.”

Malfoy didn't look fine. He was much too pale, his eyes showing traces of tears unwillingly spilled under the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry knew better than to bring it up. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked around. “Where's the snake?”

“Faded already. Usually, it only lasts one bite.”

Both their eyes found the dead rabbit laying a little afar. Harry winced.

“Potter, do you feel guilty? It's not as if it was a real animal, you know.”

“It was only a rabbit. It never stood stand a chance,” Harry said, knowing it was silly to feel regret.

“Maybe you should have conjured something bigger instead. A crup. Or a lynx.”

“It was... an intuitive decision. I don't know whether a crup would have been better.”

“No. That's what Felix Felicis is for, you know, making the right decisions.”

“Yeah. I wonder why _Finite Incantatem_ didn't work on the snake, though.”

“The castle's inherent magic supports Grey. If it's about your magic against his, you never stand a chance.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

It was then Harry realised his cock finally had gone soft during the fight. And it didn't show the slightest inclination to get hard again, even if he thought of sex, which meant that the aphrodisiac's effect had probably worn off. Whether it was due to the fighting and the additional adrenaline, or whether it had been less potent than Malfoy had thought, he didn't know. He merely sighed with relief.

All of a sudden, he felt completely drained, and he yawned. “Let's go home. I'm sick of this bloody castle.”

  


**IX**

As it turned out, Grey was eager enough to cooperate once they informed him that they would otherwise bring down the wards by force, whether they had to destroy walls and doors in the process or not. He permitted them access to the floo connection and changed the wards so that the Aurors could floo in. Which they did, Ron first, followed by Gawain Robards, four of his and Katie's Junior Aurors, including Anthony Goldstein, and Severus Snape, who entered the room with a deep scowl on his face. The scowl deepened even more the moment he saw Harry.

“Harry! Everything all right?” Ron asked, taking in their surroundings.

“Auror Potter. Mr Malfoy, it's good to see you both alive and well. What has happened?” Robards looked from Harry to Malfoy, checking them for injuries, his relief obvious when he found none.

“Potter,” Snape snarled with disdain, planting himself in front of Harry, arms crossed at his chest. “May I ask why you put my assistant in unnecessary and unjustifiable danger? And what has happened to both of you during your absence?”

He eyed Harry from head to toe.

Harry winced. He knew exactly what he looked like: tired, with deep circles under his eyes and patchy stubble, his shirt partly unbuttoned because the buttons were mysteriously missing, and he hadn't returned to the broom closet to summon them. He was still smeared with floor polishing powder, and his trousers felt stiff and uncomfortable where they had been drenched with seed and then dried on his skin. He was sweaty, dirty, and felt like shit.

Snape's observing gaze went from him to Malfoy. Malfoy looked marginally better than he did, Harry realised when his eyes followed Snape's to look at him. Somewhere along the way, he'd found the time to cast grooming and cleaning charms on himself. He looked almost as impeccable as usual, except for... _oh_.

Harry cringed involuntarily. The hickeys that covered Malfoy's neck were clearly visible against his pale skin, adorning his neck on both sides. There were faint traces of pink in his hair, and his lips still looked – _well_.

Harry closed his eyes the exact moment when he saw Snape's eyebrows rise.

“Harry?” Ron asked again.

Wearily, Harry grinned at Ron and Robards. “I'm fine. No thanks to Grey, here, and his sidekicks currently locked in the dungeons.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What about Katie?”

“She's still in St. Mungo's. The healers say she'll need a few days to make a full recovery, but she'll be fine.”

Harry exhaled, relieved beyond words.

Ron, too, gave him and Malfoy a once-over. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Looks like you two had an interesting time,” he said, including Malfoy in his friendly camaraderie.

“You could say that,” Harry agreed, hearing Malfoy say, “That's an understatement, Weasley, you have truly no idea.”

“Potter,” Snape snapped, interrupting their exchange. “Explain yourself! I demand to know how you got yourself and Mr Malfoy in this predicament!”

Harry was exhausted and unnerved. Despite that, he somehow felt a strange affection for Snape. He'd probably gone insane during the last few hours, Harry mused, if he took comfort from Snape's disapproving attitude.

On the other hand, the fact that Snape was here at all indicated he'd been worried. Although Snape would never admit to it, and claim that he'd only been upset because of Malfoy's absence, Harry had seen his scowling face too often not to realise the carefully veiled concern. He had the strong suspicion that Snape still kept caring about his safety, just like he'd done all those years at school.

He grinned at Snape in return. “I'm honestly sorry, sir. If I had known you were worried about us, I would have taken the time to send a note. That is, if I hadn't been knocked down, abducted, incarcerated and busy with trying to escape while, at the same time, dealing with four criminals who proved a _little_ recalcitrant.”

“Your insubordinate tone is not appreciated,” Snape snapped. “Unlike you, Mr Malfoy is a valuable employee whose special skills cannot be substituted by any random moron who happens to have a lucky aim with his wand.”

Harry only rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Is that floor polishing powder on your shirt, Potter?”

“On my shirt and on my face, in my hair and in my pan – pretty much everywhere,” Harry admitted with another smile. “And you might be interested to hear that you were exactly right in your assumptions regarding the personality of the brewer. It's Horace Slughorn.”

“Slughorn,” Snape snarled, his voice full of malice. Harry didn't doubt for a second that Snape had taken this case quite personally. Snape was deeply devoted to the art of brewing, and that someone brewed and sold extremely complicated and valuable potions just to make money was apparently a personal insult to him.

“Yes, Sir, exactly my thought,” Harry said, keeping his voice expressionless. “You might want to know that I was required to hit him rather forcefully with a broom about an hour ago. I imagine he's got a nasty headache right now.”

Snape's nostrils flared. “While you seem intent on boasting about your heroic deeds, Mr Potter, let me tell you I'm not interested in listening to it. I still want to know why you were foolish enough to get caught by a bunch of third-class criminals at all.”

Well, maybe he had been wrong. Harry shrugged.

“For your own sake, though, I hope that Mr Slughorn is indeed suffering accordingly. It might keep me from charging you with culpable negligence.”

Malfoy laughed. The others looked rather offended on Harry's behalf.

Harry threw his head back and laughed, too. “Great, really.”

He turned and addressed the Junior Aurors. “In the dungeons, you'll find three suspects locked in a cell. Horace Slughorn, Cyril Spencer, Marc Higgins. Arrest them and charge them with anything you can come up with. There's also a laboratory with enough evidence to send them to Azkaban for a while.”

“In the library, an anxious house-elf named Bundle is tied to a chair. Make sure she's cared for, once her master is locked in our holding cells. And be careful when you roam the house, Grey's pet kneazle is a nasty little bugger.”

Most of them chuckled. Anthony gave him a full-blown smile. “Glad you're all right,” he said before turning to go, along with the others. Harry smiled back. Ever since their little snogging session, Anthony and he shared a silent understanding.

Harry had told their story. Everything, except for one thing, and it had been Malfoy who had saved him the embarrassment. Just when Harry got to the point where he had to decide whether to mention the accidental ingestion of Luscious Lust or not, and, assuming Malfoy would tell them anyway, took a deep breath to confess, Malfoy interrupted him.

“Potter and I both took Felix Felicis. Because of this, we were able to make it out of the dungeon and overpower the others without getting hurt.”

Malfoy exchanged a look with Snape. Snape's eyes narrowed a little, but Malfoy's expression didn't change. Harry thought he saw Snape nod ever so slightly, but he couldn't be sure.

Relief flooded him. If Malfoy kept silent about the aphrodisiac and what had happened between them because of Harry's foolishness, it would save both of them a lot of embarrassing explanations, and Harry wasn't about to question his motives. He met Malfoy's gaze for a moment, hoping his eyes expressed the relief and gratefulness he felt.

Expecting to see amusement, maybe mischief, or the mocking, subtle irony he'd become used to during the last few months, so different from the cold sneer that had been Malfoy's trademark back at school. Instead, Malfoy's stare was blank and cold; indifferent in a way that bordered on offensive.

Harry's heart started to beat faster.

He was glad Felix Felicis was still working. It helped him keep track of the conversation, helped him answer Robards' questions while his mind was busy thinking, remembering, trying to make sense of what had happened between him and Malfoy; considering, for the first time, everything that had occurred between them since they'd met the day before.

Their almost companionable talk at lunch, tentative trust on both sides.

The way Malfoy had quite openly flirted with him during their stakeout, as if testing the water.

Sharing the bed at night. Falling asleep with Malfoy's arm around his waist. Waking up, Malfoy's erection hard against his backside.

Luscious Lust. Malfoy, responding to his kisses, wanting it, as if he couldn't help himself, hesitant and yet unable to resist.  
Malfoy, flushed and hard and arching beneath him in the broom closet, forgetting all about their mission, encouraging Harry.

_You kiss like you mean it._

_I do._

_It's just the potion._

_I don't care._

Malfoy hadn't cared, either, not in that moment. He'd wanted Harry. Malfoy _wanted_ him. It didn't make sense. As far as Harry knew, Malfoy was straight, and he'd never shown any signs of interest before. And yet, he'd made a move at Harry, far too subtly for Harry to take notice, but Felix Felicis made him see the whole picture now. Malfoy wanted him, and the knowledge was a heady rush, filling him with excitement. He would have felt elated, hadn't it been for Malfoy's withdrawn expression and the coldness of his voice.

Something was wrong; something was completely wrong. What had happened? Harry didn't know.

Malfoy was now talking quietly to Snape, with his back to Harry. Harry 's gaze was drawn to him against his will, again and  
again, while he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Potter! I know it's been a strenuous day so far, but I need you to pay attention here,” Robards reprimanded.

“I'm sorry, Sir. What did you just say?”

Robards stared at him. “You look troubled all of a sudden. Is something wrong?” he asked with audible concern.

Harry stared back. “No. No. I'm fine.”

Malfoy turned to Robards, ignoring Harry. “If my presence isn't required any longer, Sir, I would like to leave.”

Robards shook his head. “No, of course, you may go home. Get some breakfast and some sleep. I'll need your written report at some point, but that can wait until tomorrow. Do you want to see a healer first? I can arrange for an immediate treatment at St. Mungo's. The Cruciatus Curse -”

“No, Sir, thank you. The curse didn't last long enough for me to suffer any serious damage. Nothing a Calming Draught and a good night's sleep won't cure.”

“If you're certain, Mr Malfoy. Thank you; you did a good job here.” Robards smirked at Snape before adding, “If you ever decide to change your career and become an Auror instead of an insufferable Department Head's assistant, let me know, and don't hesitate to apply.”

“I'll take it into consideration,” Malfoy replied dryly. “It might come in handy when negotiating my salary raise.”

Robards laughed. “Off you go.”

Malfoy nodded at him and headed for the floo.

_No_! Felix Felicis screamed at him, and Harry got into action.

He had the vague feeling that if he didn't prevent Malfoy from leaving, he was going to regret it. He didn't know what exactly it was he wanted from Malfoy, not yet, but Felix Felicis seemed to know, and it also seemed to know there was only one way to attain it.

Taking one big stride, he reached Malfoy, keeping him from stepping him into the fireplace by gripping his shoulder. “Wait!”

Malfoy turned around, glaring at him and trying to shake off his hand.

Harry couldn't let that happen. He tightened his hold, pulling Malfoy closer, with the other hand grabbing some floo powder and tossing it into the flames. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Let the fuck go of me!”

“Potter, stop manhandling my assistant!” Snape demanded sharply.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry ignored them all. He also ignored Malfoy's resistance, using all his skills in hand-to-hand combat to get a hold of him.  
“Number 12, Grimmauld Place!” he announced, dragging Malfoy with him through the floo.

 

**X**

Stumbling out of the floo, the first thing that hit him was Malfoy's fist, forcefully connecting with his jaw.

Harry cursed and let go of Malfoy. “Ow!”

The next punch was aimed at his stomach and made him slump over onto his knees. “Oh, shit,” he gasped. Felix Felicis hadn't prepared him for _that_.

Malfoy was furious. He pulled at Harry's hair, hard, and made him look up with a hiss and tears of pain in his eyes. “How dare you treat me like that, you bloody wanker!”

“Stop!” Harry protested. “Stop, please!”

Malfoy crouched down and stared at him. After another sharp tug, he let go of Harry and shoved him back, sneering when Harry landed on his arse.

Malfoy aimed his wand at him. “Tell me why I shouldn't hex you six ways from Sunday and floo out of here without looking back.”

Harry felt a little dizzy. It was hard to tell whether it was because of the punch, the shove, or the intensity of Malfoy's rage.  
“I'm sorry. Somehow I thought it would be a good idea,” he murmured, shaking his head to dispel the daze.

“Does taking me captive and abducting me in front of the Head Auror seem like a good idea to you?” Malfoy asked, acidly. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Please. Just talk to me.”

“Whatever about?”

“About you. And me. And the minor, insignificant fact that you want me, you idiot.”

That made Malfoy shut up.

“And the just as insignificant fact that _I_ want _you_ ,” Harry went on, relying on his luck not to leave him right now. “And, before you object, no it's not because of the fucking potion. Just admit it; you were about to leave and never give me a chance to make sense of the whole mess we went through today or to confront you about it.”

“So you decided all by yourself that it was perfectly legitimate to take me here against my will -”

“Because you wouldn't listen to me otherwise.”

“I don't intend to listen to you as it is!”

“But I want you to,” Harry confessed. “Very much.”

“Fuck you!”

“Gladly. If that's what you want,” Harry said with a strained smile. “Just listen to me for a minute, okay?”

Malfoy crossed his arms at his chest. “Out with it.”

Harry sat up slowly, looking at Malfoy from his inferior position. “I didn't know. I really didn't know. That you had a thing for me. Not until today. I thought you were straight, and I though you only wanted to wind me up.”

Malfoy stared back.

“And I know you think I only acted like I did today because the aphrodisiac made me. But there's something you don't know.”

“Oh?”

“The reason I couldn't resist the drug. The reason why I could throw off _Imperio_ , but was unable to fight Luscious Lust.”

“Oh?” Malfoy asked again, pretending to be bored.

“Because the Imperius Curse made me do things I _didn't want_ , unlike the potion.”

It took a moment for Malfoy to get the meaning. His eyes went wide. “Does that mean -”

“I wanted you before. That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Malfoy cleared his throat. “I didn't know.”

“Obviously.”

“All the time I thought – how long?”

Harry shrugged. “I honestly don't know. Not for long, I reckon, but definitely before today.”

“Oh.”

“But I thought you were straight.”

Malfoy looked to the floor. “That's what everyone still thinks, apart from me.”

“Since when -”

“It's complicated.”

“I'm listening,” Harry said softly.

“I've only known for a few months. I'd never thought about it before, but then I had to go to Muggle London one day, collecting ingredients for Severus. And I saw them, those Muggles, a gay couple, and they were kissing and doing stuff where _everyone_ could see them, and I – I got turned on. Really, really turned on.”

“What were they doing?” Harry asked with inappropriate curiosity.

“Just jerking each other off. Not a big thing. But I couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards, and I was engaged already, and everything was pretty fucked up. It took a few weeks, but I knew I had to break up with Astoria then.”

“Just because you saw two blokes giving each other a handjob? Did you ever do anything with a man yourself?”

“I was engaged, Potter,” Malfoy said coolly. “And I don't cheat.”

Harry winced. “I'm sorry. I guess I'm just surprised. Impressed. How did you know it wasn't just curiosity on your part?”

“It's a little more than curiosity when you get hard every time you're thinking of other men's dicks up your arse, don't you think? Or your cock up their arse. Or -”

“All right,” Harry interrupted him hastily. “I get it, really.”

Malfoy chuckled. “Don't play shy. I've seen your kinky side already, Potter, there's no need to pretend.”

“I don't pretend, I'm just – not quite comfortable talking about it so blatantly.”

“You suck cock like you were born to do it, but you don't like a little bit of dirty talk?”

Harry knew he was blushing. “Something like that, yeah.”

“And what about _'tearing your clothes and bending you over the nearest available surface to fuck your brains out until you scream'_?”

Harry was sure his cheeks were blazing red by now. “Today was different. I don't usually say things like that.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows mockingly. When Harry didn't react, he shrugged and continued his tale. “As I was saying, I realised I had played for the wrong team all these years. So, I broke up with her. And afterwards, I went to the Leaky and only wanted to get really pissed as soon as possible. That evening, when I saw you snogging Goldstein, I was envious. You two were so obviously enjoying yourselves, even if you did it just to nettle your girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not quite trusting his voice to be calm and steady.

“Yeah.” Malfoy cleared his throat. “Well. I guess that's pretty much all about it.”

“Have you ever -”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Staring in Malfoy's unfathomable eyes, Harry realised belatedly the question was pretty personal. “Sorry. I mean...”

“It's okay. I guess it simply wasn't what I wanted, you know. I've never been the type to fool around like that.”

_But you did it with me._ “When you saw me and Tony, that evening – you said you were envious.” His statement held a questioning undertone, and he hoped Malfoy would understand the silent plea.

Malfoy avoided his gaze, hesitating, then, “Maybe I discovered I was a little jealous, too.”

Harry's heart began to beat faster. “That must have been a disturbing discovery.”

Malfoy laughed, lowly, still avoiding his gaze. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“And -”

“And nothing.”

“Why didn't you...”

“There was no point in embarrassing myself.”

“But you wouldn't have -”

“Whatever. No use in talking about it. No big deal, anyway.”

“But I...”

“Okay, so maybe I had a thing for you. It doesn't change anything. You're still you, and I'm still me.”

“This thing – is it still there, after all what happened today?” It was a daring question, and Harry tried to make it sound casual.

“What do you think, Potter?” Malfoy said quietly.

“I'm not sure, to be completely honest. This morning, when we were– you know what I mean – you seemed to enjoy yourself. But I took advantage of you, and now -.”

Malfoy snorted. “You 'took advantage of me'? As if I'd let you. It was you who wasn't in his right state of mind, mind you. Do you honestly think I couldn't have stopped you, had I wanted to?”

“Yeah, I reckon you could have. Does that mean that you still like me?”

“I don't like you,” Malfoy murmured. “I despise you. Everybody knows that.”

“Fine. Do you still want to fuck me, then?” Harry asked bluntly.

Silence.

“Do _you_ want to fuck _me_?” Malfoy asked, not showing any emotion at all.

“Yes. I do. But I'd also like to talk to you. Date you. Get to know you, really know you.”

“You're a fool,” Malfoy said. “It wouldn't work for a single week.”

“Why don't we at least try?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I don't think it's a good idea.”

“If we don't make the effort, we'll never find out.”

“Maybe that would be best.”

Harry slowly rose to his feet. It was time for something drastic, Felix Felicis told him. Or maybe it wasn't the potion anymore. He couldn't tell, he only knew he wanted so badly for this to work out.

“Do you really believe that? Because I think you don't. I think you're just afraid. I'm afraid, too, but it doesn't matter so much, because I've got a pretty good idea of what we'd be missing if we decided we were too scared to take the risk. We'd be missing quite a lot of things.”

Malfoy's eyes were positively glowing as he watched Harry approach.

“I know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Do you really think I don't know? You drive me crazy, Potter. Fucking crazy. If you're half as good without the aphrodisiac as you were with it, I'm not even sure I could resist you if I wanted to. It's been too bloody long, and I want it so much, I want _you_ so much.”

Harry's breath caught.

“I'm too easy, Potter, you only need to look at me like that, and I want nothing more then get naked and have you fuck me into the mattress. That's what really scares me, you know.”

It was hard to find an answer to that. Even more so because Harry had never expected Malfoy to admit to his feelings so frankly. It took more courage than Harry would have showed in Malfoy's place.

It made him want Malfoy even more.

And there were things Malfoy didn't talk about, the omnipresent fear of rejection, insecurities and resentment and the humiliating knowledge that someone else could evoke so powerful emotions, desire, arousal and possessiveness, and could make you forget anything else and strip you bare of your defences.

Scary, indeed.

Harry didn't need Felix Felicis to tell him that he better didn't attempt to spell out all his thoughts, to bring all those things to the surface. Neither he nor Malfoy could deal with it just yet.

Instead, he laughed, a shaky and breathy sound, and said: “I'm easy, too. Believe me, right now, I want you so badly, I'm ready to beg for it. Don't make me, though. Just tell me what you want.”

“Fuck,” Malfoy whispered, breathless, and his eyes had darkened in a way that made Harry gasp. “Yes. Yes.”

“What do you want? Tell me.”

Malfoy laughed. “Everything.”

Harry felt his cock harden in his pants, something that should have been impossible after three recent orgasms, but he wasn't about to complain or even ponder about it. He drew closer, meeting Malfoy's gaze. He wasn't able to tell for sure who made the first move, but he thought it was Malfoy. Malfoy's hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Then they were kissing, messy and wet and perfect, and it was even better now the aphrodisiac had worn off. He could take his time to find out what Malfoy liked, let his tongue explore the depths of his mouth, let his lips wander all over his neck, sucking and biting at his most sensitive spots. Felix Felicis helped him find quite a lot of them.

Malfoy squirmed, writhed and moaned, grinding against him, reduced to beautiful incoherence. Until his hands, after a particularly strong thrusts of his hips, entangled themselves in Harry's hair and tugged, hard. “Potter! Stop!”

“Can't,” Harry murmured between kisses and licks.

Malfoy pulled at his hair more forcefully and growled.

Harry lifted his head to look at him. “Don't tell me you'll chicken out of this now!”

“Oh, do shut up already,” Malfoy muttered. “But if we're going to do this, I'd prefer to do it on a proper bed for once.”

Harry stared at him. “Oh.” His brain had stopped working. Instead, it provided him with pictures of him and Malfoy, moving together on his bed, and he stood there with his jaw dropped and his heart beating like mad.

“Potter! You'll catch flies like that. Bedroom. Now.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered. “Yeah, all right.” He gripped Malfoy's hand and pulled him upstairs.

Harry's bedroom wasn't the tidiest of places, not even on good days, but today it was even worse. There were dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and layers of dust covering the surface of his nightstand. The bed was unmade, and he really should have changed the sheets at the weekend.

Thankfully, Malfoy didn't seem to mind. They made their way through the room, stripping each other of their clothes and spreading pink powder everywhere. They tumbled onto the bed, finally. Malfoy on top of him, naked in all his glory, pale skin, strong muscles and smooth skin, feline grace and a certain awkwardness that made Harry remember Malfoy had never done this before. The determination in his eyes, however, told Harry all he needed to know.

“Whatever you want,” Harry whispered. “Whatever you like.”

Malfoy's face was hovering over him, tense and unguarded, and he attempted a smirk. “Not clever to give me a cart blanche, Potter. I could decide to make use of it.”

“Just do it.”

And Malfoy did.

He was similarly successful in finding Harry's weak spots as Harry had been: He didn't hesitate to make use of his new-found knowledge, covering Harry's neck and shoulders with bite marks, sucking at his earlobe, grazing the sensitive skin at his nape with his nails _just so_ , trailing a path of wet licks and kisses down to his nipples.

Harry ached and moaned when Malfoy bit and sucked at them until they were swollen and tender and then grazed the skin with his hot breath. “Ah, fuck, Draco -”

Malfoy worked his way down to his navel, dipping his tongue into it. Harry, his hands in Draco's hair and his eyes closed, fought the impulse to urge Draco lower, squirming beneath him, trying to suppress a helpless laugh when Draco's lips glided from his navel to his left hipbone.

Malfoy smiled against the soft skin. “Ticklish?” he murmured, obviously pleased with himself, repeating his action.

Harry groaned. He should have known Malfoy would be like this, teasing and mocking him and making him desperate for release. “Draco, come on. Please,” he added, following his instinct, and judging by the way Malfoy laughed and moved further down, it seemed to work.

Until Malfoy suddenly stopped, his mouth still inches from Harry's cock, and hesitated for a moment. He lifted his eyes. The look on his face was apologetic. “I know it's not exactly a good moment to ask -”

_Whatever you want,_ Harry had told him. He would make good on his promise, even if it killed him. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “It's all right. Just tell me -”

“I'd really appreciate it if we could take a shower first.”

He didn't know what he had expected in the first place, but it certainly wasn't that. Harry looked down at his own body. Maybe Draco had a point there, though. It wasn't as if Harry was overly prissy or minded the natural scent of a male body, but some things were simply gross.

He settled back, making a show of sprawling on the sheets, at the same worrying his bottom lip with his teeth – surely, a little teasing was indicated - and sighed. “All right. Why don't you go first? Bathroom's right there.” He pointed at the door on the left side of the room.

At least it would give him time to change the sheets.

Draco nodded gravely and got up to go to the bathroom. At the doorstep, however, he turned to Harry, one eyebrow arched. “Give me a few minutes. I wouldn't mind if you joined me then.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You know, that sounds like an excellent plan.” Already his Felix Felicis-addled brain was providing him with pictures of hot bathroom sex, and he swallowed, unconsciously staring at Draco and wetting his dry lips.

Draco blushed under his gaze, pleased and self-conscious at the same time. “I'll have you know, my plans are always excellent,” he said. “You're lucky they currently involve your cock and my arse, or maybe the other way round.”

“Yeah,” Harry said hoarsely. “Lucky me.”

 

~~~~~

“We've got a problem,” Gawain Robards announced.

His Aurors-in-Charge, Harry, Ron, Katie and Thomas, exchanged meaningful glances. They had already assumed as much, regarding the fact he had once again come in without biscuits and had the secretary brew the tea, leading to a barely palatable result.

“Someone's selling ineffective Wolfsbane to unregistered werewolves. Two people were already bitten because of it. We'll be working with the DPMS, and Snape has agreed to lend us Malfoy for the case. One of you has to meet with him right afterwards and get the details.”

Three sets of eyes turned towards Harry.

Harry yawned and shrugged, feigning regret. “Sorry. Fraternising rule, remember?”

“That's a stupid rule,” Katie complained. “It should only apply to field missions.”

“Really, mate, it's not as if you wouldn't meet him for lunch anyway.”

“Harry, what's the use in shagging Snape's assistant if you can't make him act like a decent human being when he works with us?”

It was a reasonable question.

Harry thought of the night a few weeks before, when Draco had found a half-empty, long-forgotten vial of Luscious Lust in a shirt lying under the bed. The night had been... memorable. Interesting, to say the least. Especially since Draco had managed to prolong the effect by modifying the potion. Considering that, shagging a potions expert definitely had its merits.

He knew better than to point out the benefits of sleeping with Draco Malfoy to his colleagues, though.

He grinned at Thomas. “I'm sure I could convince Draco to take time off. Who knows, maybe you could work with Snape personally instead. Wouldn't that be fun?”


End file.
